Death Maiden
by Kittycat3
Summary: A girl from a Savage tribe, posing as a Roman Lady, is found along with Guinevere and Lucan. Will her fearsome background prove helpful to the Knights, or will it make her a direct target of the Saxons?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Obviously, I own nothing from King Arthur. The only things I own are the characters that I have created. I owe the name of the Tribe to author Cynthia Voigt. On that note, please don't sue me, I just couldn't think of a good enough name. )

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Numb. That's the only word that could be used to describe her now. She had

lost all feeling in her body, but perhaps her mind had willed it so. She was

grateful for the numbness; at least now she couldn't feel the pain that was

inflicted on her. She slowly turned her head to look at the girl across from

her. Guinevere was her name, and she was still unconscious from the last

beating that the monks had given her. She felt sorry for the girl. Guinevere

was strong, and she still kept up her hope of being rescued. She herself knew

that it was pointless. The surviving prisoners were never going to get out of

the dank pit that they were being held in. As far as she knew, there were only

two other prisoners left besides herself: Guinevere and a young boy named

Lucan. His parents had died many days ago, and he was now alone in the

world. /Just like me./ With that heartbreaking thought, she curled up in a ball

and let the darkness have her. Sleep was the only escape for her, besides

death. She was not ready to die, however, unless she took a monk or two with

her. If she was not to leave this place alive, then neither were the so-called

men of God. Finding that her thoughts were keeping her awake, she sat up and

leaned against the cold, hard stone of her cell. She picked up her hidden

weapon – a small chunk of stone – and began to sharpen it. She was not

physically strong anymore, but she still had the spirit of her people. The

spirit of survival is what was keeping her alive, along with thoughts of

revenge. All through the night, she sat staring, lost in the memory of her

village, all the while toying with her piece of rock.

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	2. a wolf among them

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Galahad sighed under his breath. They didn't have time for this. Couldn't

this ignorant Roman hear the Saxon drums? At this moment, the man in

question, Marius Honorius, was refusing to leave his home. Arthur, getting

very annoyed, jumped off of his horse and approached a very fearful Marius,

who was taking steps back. "If I fail to bring you and your son back," Arthur

told him through clenched teeth, "My men can never leave this land. So

you're coming with me, if I have to tie you to my horse and drag you all the

way to Hadrian's Wall myself." He did a mock bow. "My lord." He then

looked towards Marius' wife, Fulcinia. "Lady, my knights are hungry."

Galahad saw the woman touch her husband's shoulder, as if to get

permission. "Go," was the curt answer. Marius and Arthur stare each other

down, until finally the pudgy Roman turns away. "Come, Alecto." Alecto

stayed, however, and watched as Arthur took out his sword instead of getting

back on his horse. Galahad looked over at Lancelot, who rolled his eyes. As

much as they all trusted their commander, he seemed to be slowing them

down. The Knights watched as Arthur cut down the village elder, and

demanded that he be helped. He left a villager, Ganis, in charge of gathering

up the remaining villagers. Turning his horse around, Galahad saw Tristan

approach Arthur. "They have flanked us to the east; they're coming from the

south, trying to cut off our escape." Tristan was out of breath. "They'll be

here before nightfall," he reported. "How many?" Arthur asked his scout.

"An entire army," was the grave answer. "And the only way is to the South?"

Tristan shook his head. "East. There is a trail, heading east. Across the

mountains. It means we'll have to cross behind the Saxon lines, if that's the

road we shall take." He looked around at the serfs, who had begun packing.

"Arthur, who are these people? Tell me they are not coming with us." Arthur

nodded his head. "They are." "Then we will never make it," Tristan told him.

Arthur looked down, solemnly. Tristan looked up and listened to the

pounding of Saxon drums. The other Knights also turned around, listening.

Marius listened, beginning to get worried. His mercenaries listened for a

moment, then turned back around. "Come on. Get back to work!" Was the

order. "Back to work!" The Knights saw monks, continuing to build a wall.

Arthur approached them on horse, drew his sword, then dismounted.

Mercenaries, however, stood in the way to stop him from seeing what was

there. Arthur pointed his sword at the two. "Move." There was no response.

"I said move!" The Knights rode closer, to see what was keeping them from

starting back for the wall. The mercenaries backed away slowly. "What is

this?" Arthur demanded. One of the monks rushed over and placed himself

between Arthur and the wall. "You cannot go in there. No one goes in there.

This place is forbidden." In the distance, the Knights heard Marius' voice.

"What are you doing?! Stop this!" Arthur was moving to see what was inside,

when Lancelot spoke up. "Arthur, we have no time." Galahad spoke from

beside him. "Can you not hear the drums?" Arthur just pointed his head in

the direction of the wall. "Dagonet." Dagonet dismounted his horse and

used his axe to tear the whole wall down. The Knights watched as Dagonet

hit a small door on the other side of the wall. Arthur held his hand out to the

mercenaries. "Key." "It is locked…from the inside," The mercenary told

him. "Very well." Arthur nodded his head at Dagonet to kick in the door.

When the largest Knight broke the door down, the others could see metal

chains hanging from the ceiling. Lancelot dismounted his horse to follow

Arthur inside the tiny building. Gawain also got off of his horse and grabbed

onto a monk. "Here you." He pushed the monk forward." "Go. Move."

Arthur ventured deeper into the building, and Lancelot handed a torch to

Gawain. Galahad and Bors stayed on their horses and prevented any of the

mercenaries from following after them. "You stay here," Bors ordered

them. Arthur, Lancelot, Gawain and Dagonet walked down a flight of stairs,

into a darkened chamber. They could hear someone chanting in Latin.

"Exaudi orationem meam. In nomine Dei Patric omnipotentis et in virtute

Spiritus Sancti." Arthur held up his torch to the wall, only to see a dead man

hanging from shackles on the wall. They came upon the skinny monk who

was doing the chanting. He took in a deep breath when he saw the Knights.

"Who are these defilers of the Lord's temple?" Lancelot pushed the monk

out of the way and looked around at all the dead bodies. /Starvation,/ he

thought. He turned to Arthur. "The work of your God," he sneered. "Is this

how he answered your prayers?" Arthur just looked around. "See if there are

any still alive." The Knights spread out and began to check the dungeon.

Arthur opened the cage door of one cell, only to see all the prisoners were

dead. Dagonet opened a cell door, and recoiled from the horrid smell. One

of the younger monks grabbed onto Lancelot. "How dare you set foot in this

Holy place?" Lancelot responded by unsheathing his sword and stabbing the

monk in the stomach. He fell over at once, dead. "That was a man of God!"

The monk screamed. "Not my God!" Lancelot told him, full of anger.

Lancelot was not a Christian; he did not believe in any god, for that matter.

But he knew that no gods, no matter how merciful people made them out to

be, would allow followers to treat people like this. Dagonet opened anther

cage to find a man and woman, already dead. "These ones are dead." Gawain

held his nose. "By the smell, they are all dead." He turned to the remaining

monks. "And you, you move, and you join him." He pointed to dead man on

the ground. "Arthur," came a cry from Dagonet. He was lifting a little boy

out from a small hole in the ground. "You must not fear me," he told the

boy, quietly. Gawain searched for more survivors, as Arthur and Lancelot

were busy freeing another prisoner, a girl, by the looks of it. Gawain

scanned the cells with his torch, until he came upon another prisoner that

was still living. Another girl. They stared at each other for what seemed like

eternity, until she spoke in a raspy voice. "He…help m…me." She was

shivering. Gawain nodded and stood up to cut the cell door open with his

sword. He reached in and gathered her up in his arms. "Arthur," he called. "I

found another one." Taking the remaining prisoners out from the dungeon,

the Knights once again found themselves in Marius' village. "Water!" Arthur

cried. "Give us some water!" Arthur gave some water to the woman he was

carrying, while Galahad threw Gawain his water pouch to give to the second

girl. Suddenly, Marius' voice rang out over the village as he came running

over. "Stop what you are doing!" Arthur stood up. "What is this madness?!"

Marius' face was furious. "They are all Pagans here!" Galahad looked away

from this girl and up at Marius. "So are we!" He retorted. "They refused to

do the task God has set for them." Marius explained. "They must die as an

example." His wife, Fulcinia, took Arthur's place next to the smaller girl, as

he stood up. "You mean they refused to be your Serfs!" Marius looked

shocked that Arthur disagreed with him. "You are a Roman. And a Christian.

You understand." He glanced at his wife, who was soothing a prisoner.

"You!" He cried out. "You kept them alive!" He slapped Fulcinia across the

face. Arthur responded by punching the man in the jaw. He fell right onto

his back, just as Arthur pointed Excalibur at his neck. Marius' mercenaries

began to come forward to his aid, but were told to stop. "No, no. Stop!" He

looked up at Arthur. "When we get back to the Wall, you will be punished

for this heresy," he threatened. Arthur didn't seemed fazed. "Perhaps I

should kill you now and seal my fate." During one moment of silence, a

voice called out. "My God," came the small voice of Alecto. He rushed over

to where Gawain and Galahad were kneeling next to the second girl. He

knelt beside the girl and gently picked up her hand, not caring about the

layers of dirt that covered it. "Julia? Is that you?" He questioned. She looked

up at him and her eyes became clearer. "A…Alec…to?" Her voice was

hoarse sounding. Galahad looked at the youth. "You know her?" Alecto

didn't look up at him, he sat stroking the girl's dirty hair. "She was to be my

wife. But my father, he told me that he had to send her away." The Knights

looked from Alecto to Marius. "Father," Alecto's normally quiet voice

boomed. "What have you done?!" During this time, the monks began

rambling on about their willingness to die with the prisoners, so that they

could lead the 'sinners' to their rightful place. Arthur turned away from

Marius. "Then I shall grant their wish." He turned to Bors and Tristan. "Wall

them back up." "Arthur," Tristan began. "I said wall them up," he said,

harshly. The serfs began to move in and push the monks back into the

dungeon. Gawain, Galahad and Alecto still knelt beside the girl. Alecto was

still holding her hand. "Julia. Oh, Julia." She weakly shook her head. "M...my

name is n…not Julia. My n…name is Eadwyn." Gawain and Galahad glanced

at each other, as Alecto looked up at the sky with a confused expression on

his face. Lancelot walked over to the four, and Julia, or Eadwyn, whichever

was her name, looked up at him. "You. You killed the monk?" "I did,"

Lancelot answered her truthfully. He was sure that she would have been glad

that the monk was dead, but he did not expect her to be angry. "How dare

you?" The three Knights seemed surprised at her answer at first. She

seemed to glare up at Lancelot. "How dare you rob me of that honour?"

Lancelot's eyes went wide for a minute, before the girl passed out cold.

Alecto's mother came just then to lead him to a carriage, assuring him that

he would see her soon. Lancelot had a small smirk on his face as he walked

away, leaving Gawain and Galahad to see to the girl. "Julia," Galahad

whispered. "What would a Roman girl be doing down there?" "No,"

corrected the elder Knight. "Didn't you hear her? Her name is Eadwyn. She

is no Roman." Galahad checked her legs and arms for tattoos, but found

none. "She is no Woad, like the other." Gawain picked her up gently. "We

will find out when she wakes up. Come, let's get her to a wagon."

When the girl awoke, she found that she was in a small wagon, covered in

fur blankets. Looking around, she saw that Guinevere and Lucan had been

placed in the wagon with her. Lucan was sitting with a large man, who was

patting a clean cloth over his small face. In the corner, Guinevere was

speaking to another man. "He tortured me," Guinevere was saying softly.

"With machines. He made me tell him things….things I didn't know to begin

with." Slowly, she began to move out from under the blankets. Even with all

of her training, she was surprised that the two men didn't look up at her.

Silently picking up the larger man's discarded sword, she jumped from the

wagon, only to come face-to-face with yet another man. Her instinct kicked

in, and she thrust up the sword and held it at his throat. "Hvem wässer sinä?

Missä er minä?" (Who are you? Where am I?) To her great surprise, the man

just smiled and shook his head. "You think you can use that sword?"

Lancelot laughed, his dark curls bouncing around on his head. He slowly

drew one of his swords and touched it with her own. He was surprised to see

that this filthy prisoner of Marius was rather good with a sword. Lancelot

looked at the girl's face. She was both glaring and smiling at the same time.

She reminded Lancelot of himself as a youth. "We are not here to hurt you,

you know," he told the girl. She just growled in response. "But you have hurt

me. You have robbed me of a great honour, you see?" "And what honour

would that be, Lady?" She did not answer, she just jabbed with her sword.

For someone who was still so weak, she was still holding her own with

Dagonet's sword. She could block every jab made by Lancelot. This

impressed him. He studied her, and found her very easy to look at. She had

long hair, almost down to her waist, and it was a deep brown colour; almost

a black. Her skin, now clean of dirt, was the fairest Lancelot had ever seen.

Her eyes were clear, alert, and a mixture of light brown and deep green. He

found himself staring into them, which gave her the opportunity to jab

forward. He could see that she was already beginning to tire, though, so he

just reached out with his long leg and pushed her knee, and it gave way. She

fell to the ground with an "Oomph." "You are good with a sword, girl." He

held out a hand for her to take. "What is your name?" She pushed his hand

aside, and struggled to get up by herself. She was foolish for engaging him

in sword-play, and had now wasted all the energy she had gotten from

sleeping. "My name is Eadwyn. And I am no girl." Lancelot laughed. "You

look like one in that dress. You mean to tell me that you are a boy, then?"

Despite herself, Eadwyn let out a hoarse laugh and looked down at herself.

Gone were the torn rags she had on in the dungeon. She was now wearing a

Roman style gown, green in colour. /Fulcinia must have dressed me as I

slept./ Was Eadwyn's only thought. "Are you hungry?" He asked Eadwyn.

Her eyes widened at the thought of food. Nodding her head, Lancelot led

her to a small fire, which was being tended by Tristan and Gawain. He

walked over to his horse and then returned with a hunk of bread, while

Tristan passed her a bowl of thin stew. "Thank-you." Ignoring the talk of the

Knights, Eadwyn began to eat to fast that Lancelot had to stop her. He

grabbed her left arm, which was holding the bread. Blushing slightly,

Eadwyn realized that her bowl was almost empty, while theirs was still full.

"Oh," she said, and put down her bowl. Gawain and Lancelot laughed out

loud. "You will make youself sick if you eat like that," Lancelot told her.

"Your stomach cannot handle that much food so quickly," Gawain added.

Smiling, Eadwyn put the last bit of her bread in the bowl at her feet and

turned to Gawain. "You were the one who took me from the cell?" He

nodded. She looked him straight in the eye, with so much emotion held in

two little words: "Thank-you." Before Gawain could say anything, a voice

called out from behind them. "Lady," called out Arthur. "I'm sure that my

knight would appreciate having his weapon back." Eadwyn had forgotten

about the sword she still had near her feet. Nodding, she handed it back to

Arthur. "I am Arthur Castus, commander of the Sarmatian Knights. You are

safe now, Lady." She stood up, as did Lancelot and Gawain. She looked up at

him. "I am free now only because of you and your Knights, Arthur Castus,

that I am sure of. I own you my life." Arthur had not noticed that his loud

voice had attracted a crowd. The remaining Knights, minus Dagonet, had

gathered around, as well as Alecto, Marius, and a small group of serfs.

Marius chose that moment to break through the wall of bodies, and come

towards her. "No! She is a heretic. She is a sinner and a savage. She must

die!" Lancelot instantly put himself between Marius and the girl, although

he was sure that she didn't need his protection. "My Lord," Arthur came

forward. "Tell me what she has done to deserve such inhumane treatment."

Marius glared. "She is a savage! She masqueraded as a Roman Lady, as a

Christian. She is pagan and a heretic!" "Father," Alecto cried. "It is not true.

Julia cannot be a pagan." Arthur turned to her. "What is your name? Where

do you come from?" "My name is Eadwyn," she repeated. "Where do you

come from?" Arthur asked again. Eadwyn just stood without saying

anything. Marius let out a string of curse words, and then walked away.

"Who are your people?" Gawain gently asked her. Still, she said nothing.

"You ain't a Woad," Bors pointed out. "Are you Roman?" She shook her

head. "Saxon?" Galahad asked her. Eadwyn glared at him and spit at the

ground. "Saxon? I would kill myself if I were." "Then what are you?"

Lancelot asked from beside her. Sighing, Eadwyn looked straight ahead. "I

am of the Volkaric." There was a gasp from within the crowd, and a few of

the serfs stepped back. "Wolfer?" Tristan asked. She nodded quickly. Only

Arthur looked confused. "What land is this? What is a Wolfer?" He had

obviously never heard of them. "The Volkaric is not a country. The Volkaric

are the people of which I come from." Many of the women were drawing

back their young children. "Savage," came the whispers from the crowd.

"Keep away from that one." Turning on her heel, Eadwyn quickly made her

way back to the wagon that she had woken up in. Alecto followed her and

grabbed her arm. "Julia, stop!" Turning to him, she hugged him hard.

"Alecto, I am so sorry. I am not the girl you think I am. My name is not

Julia. The real Julia Cassius Quintus is dead." He broke away from her. "I do

not understand." "Then tell me," Alecto pleaded. "Yes," yelled the voice of

Lancelot. "Tell us all. For we are dying to know your story. We know of

Guinevere; she is a Woad. But you are a mystery to us all." She looked at

his face; he was smirking as usual. /I do not owe them any explanation!/ But

Eadwyn walked back to the fire and sat down anyways. With the frightened

serfs now gone, it was just the Knights, Alecto and herself. "Lady," began

Arthur. "Please tell me about your people. It is a strange name that I have

not heard before." She nodded and looked deep into the fire. "The Volkaric

are my people. We come not from this island, but from a land across the

sea, to the east. Norwäe." "Then what is a Wolfer?" Arthur asked. "It is

another name for my people. My people are a nomadic tribe, for the most

part. Like wolves. It was told in stories that my people were born from a

wolf. My tribe lived like a pack, with the hierarchy that goes along with it.

Our King was at the top." "Not to mention that's how they attack a village,"

Tristan quietly pointed out. "Like a pack of wolves closing in on a single

sheep." She glared his way. "You think we are savages?" He shook his head.

"Your people's cruelties are known throughout the world." "As opposed to

what?" Eadwyn was getting angry. "The kindness of the Saxons? Or maybe

the good deeds of the Roman Empire?" She spat out the words as if they

were dirty in her mouth. "But you take what you want by force," Galahad

told her, as if she didn't know it herself. "We had all we needed. We only

took when it came to our survival!" Arthur took to breaking up the argument.

"Tell us, Lady, how you came to be in Britton." "The Volkaric lived in

Norwäe for as long as anyone could remember. I lived there, with my

family, until I was thirteen. My father was a councilman, and he began to

warn our tribe of a great threat growing in the south. The Saxons." Eadwyn

glared and her hands balled into fists. "One day, when we were preparing to

move north, they attacked. People either ran, or tried to fight. Most of my

people got safely away, but those that did not…well, they left two people

alive. The King, Raewald, and myself. The rest of my people, they

slaughtered. Women were raped in the streets, and children were cut to

pieces. When they set fire to the village, entire families were burned to

death. I was forced to watch as they killed my father. As they raped my

mother and sisters." She closed her eyes. "Only the Gods know what

happened to my brother, Ewin. And my people are called savages?" "Why

were you spared, when all the rest were killed?" Gawain wanted to know.

"Because the Saxons knew of my high rank. I was the Death Maiden."

Eadwyn looked at the blank faces of the knights. "What's that?" Bors asked

her. "The Death Maiden was the highest honour that a girl could receive,

higher even then the Queen. When the King died, it was the duty of the

Death Maiden to accompany him to the next life. She would be the one to

serve him in the Good Land." "They would kill a child, just for a dead king?"

Arthur asked her. She nodded. "It was considered a great thing to be chosen,

as I was. But when the Saxons came, they killed Raewald in the hall of their

leader, Cerdic. When I was taken, I was allowed to live. I was given to

Cerdic's son, Cyrnic. After the first time, he didn't take to raping me again.

I must have displeased him," she sneered. "He would just come into my cell,

beat me, and then leave. I could have fought back, but that is where I got

this." Eadwyn pulled down her dress to show a scar running from her

collarbone to her breastbone. "I learned that it was best to just let him beat

me." She looked to Alecto, who was staring at her intently. "So you see,

Alecto, you would have been marrying a ruined woman." He said nothing in

response. "After two months, though, the guards got careless, and I was able

to escape." "In a camp full of Saxons?" Lancelot was astounded. "How?"

Eadwyn smiled slightly. "From an early age, the Volkaric are taught to move

silently, and swiftly, like a wolf. We are harder to track then even the

Woads," she told them proudly. "I had to kill many men that night, to ensure

my escape. After that, I had to fend for myself, until I was fourteen winters

old. It was very hard, but I was taught well by my parents. I tried to track

down the rest of my people, the ones that had gotten away from the

slaughter, but I found nothing. I did hear rumors, however, that the

remaining Volkaric had fled Norwäe, and went west, across the sea, to the

island of Britton. I was just days away from a seacoast village, when I was

captured by the Romans." All the Knights looked over at Arthur. "I was

brought to a place I had never been before. The man called it Gaul. It was

there that I was sold as a slave. I was sold to a man named Graccus Cassius

Quintus, who lived in Rome. He had a daughter who was very ill, and needed

a companion. I lived in Rome for five years. It was during the first year that I

was able to understand their language, and speak it easily. During my fourth

year, however, the girl, Julia, died. It was then that Quintus decided I was to

take her place. Julia was to be married to a young man in Britton. Alecto

Honorius, was his name. That, as well, was a hard year for me. I was forced

to learn everything a young Roman Lady knows. At first I refused, but

Quintus said he would kill me, for he had a lot to gain from this marriage.

So, when I was nineteen, I was sent to Britton. Imagine my great delight; I

would be able to search for my people." Eadwyn took a breath. "When I

reached my new home, I was shocked. I had heard from Julia what a horror

marriage can be. Many of her friends had been beat by their husbands, so I

was very surprised to discover what Alecto was like. I found that I liked him

very much." Alecto smiled gently at her. "If I was to be Julia Cassius

Quintus, I was glad that I had someone like Alecto in my life. I had been

living at the Honorius villa for many months, when I made my mistake. Late

one night, I was praying to my God, Woden, when a chambermaid entered

without knocking. She saw what I was doing, and immediately ran to get

Marius. The next morning, I was in the dungeon. He thought me a pagan, so

he had to get rid of me." She stood up abruptly. "And that is the end of my

story." The Knights and Alecto sat, stunned. Even Arthur had nothing to say.

By the time they regained their composure, Eadwyn was back in the wagon.

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	3. a dream worth keeping, and a release fro...

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Lancelot found her later that night, behind a tree, emptying the contents of

her stomach. When Eadwyn looked up at him, his usual smirk was gone

from his face. Instead of saying anything, he just held up her dark hair, and

placed his hand on her back. As Eadwyn was vomiting, all Lancelot could

think about was how soft her hair felt between his fingers. She stood up and

wiped her mouth with her hand. "We told you not to eat so fast," Lancelot

told her. His smirk was now securely back in place. She just smiled at him,

her eyes still moist from unshed tears. "When you are as hungry as I was,

you do not listen to those who tell you not to eat." There was an awkward

pause. "Have you been in that wagon all day? I have not seen you since you

told us your tale." Eadwyn nodded her dark head. "Lucan was ill. He needed

someone to look after him." "The other girl, Guinevere, was out, asking all

sorts of questions. Where are we going, when will we be there, those sorts

of questions." It suddenly occurred to Eadwyn that she had no idea where

these knights were taking her. "Where are you taking us, Lancelot?" It was

the first time she had spoken his name, and he liked the way it sounded

coming off of her tongue. "We are returning to Hadrian's Wall. Do you

know what that is?" She nodded. "We were sent to rescue the family so they

can return to Rome. We have, and now the Knights have their freedom." He

sounded peaceful as he said this. Relieved. Lancelot looked her up and

down. She was still wearing the green dress, but over top of it, Eadwyn wore

a thick fur cloak, and thick fur boots that went up to her mid-calf. "Let me

guess. Wolf pelts?" Eadwyn chuckled. "You guessed well. Alecto was kind

enough to bring my trunk along with him when he packed. I kept these

hidden at the bottom of my smallest trunk." Lancelot just nodded, and sat

down in front of a tree. "What are you doing?" Eadwyn asked him. "It's my

shift. I must keep watch during the night." Eadwyn's mouth formed an 'O'.

"Have you eaten? Would you like me to get you some stew?" Lancelot

settled back against the tree trunk with his eyes closed. "Just as long as Bors

didn't make it," he joked. Once Lancelot was by himself, he began to fidget

nervously. He rubbed his face tiredly, and waited for Eadwyn to return.

"What is it like, your home?" Came a voice from behind him. Craning his

neck to see who it was, Lancelot saw Guinevere coming towards him. He

looked at her, a very serious look coming on his face. "We sacrificed goats.

Drank their blood." He smirked at the Woad girl. "Then we danced naked

around the fire." "That's funny." Eadwyn came upon the two with two bowls

of stew in her hands. "I thought that only happened in my land." She had a

bright smile on her face, which made her dimples stand out. She and

Lancelot laughed at each other, but Guinevere just stood there, not saying a

word. It was obvious that she wanted him to talk. He stood up and squinted

his eyes against the snow. "I do remember…home…" He looked wistful.

"Oceans of grass from horizon to horizon, further then you can ride. The

sky," he became proud and sounded enthusiastic. "Bigger then you can

imagine." He shook his head and took a deep breath. "No boundaries."

Guinevere smiled, seeming satisfied with his answer. Eadwyn stood there,

not saying anything. "Some people would call that freedom." Lancelot

smiled and looked at the ground. "That's what we fight for. Our land, our

people. The right to choose our own destiny." Lancelot looked away,

slightly annoyed. "So you see Lancelot, we are much alike, you and I." She

walked towards Lancelot and gently touched his lower arm. Eadwyn felt her

eyes narrow slightly. "And when you return home, will you take a wife?

Have sons?" Guinevere was asking him. Lancelot looked submissive. "I've

killed too many sons. What right do I have to my own?" Guinevere frowned.

"No family. No Religion. Do you believe in anything at all?" Lancelot

looked at Guinevere and was about to say something. Instead, he sighed and

looked ashamed. "I would have left you and the boy there to die," he said to

both women. Guinevere gave him the evil eye, and then walked away.

Eadwyn, on the other hand, just stepped up to Lancelot. He sat back down

and she gave him his bowl. "Here." He looked into her hazel eyes, with a

discouraged look in his own. "Take it. You will need it for your long night."

Sighing, he reached out and took the bowl. "Thank-you." There was a

moment of silence, until Eadwyn spoke. "I do not blame you, you know."

Lancelot looked over at her; she had taken a seat on the ground beside him.

"If I was in your position, I would have left us as well," she told him,

truthfully. "Would you really?" Eadwyn nodded. "Yes." She laughed. "I am

rather glad you did not, though. You had Saxons trailing you, and yet, you

took the time to rescue us. You gave the Saxons time to gain more ground,

but still you helped us. You are very brave." He smiled at the compliment.

"Many thanks, Lady. But I was just following orders." "Is your family still

there? In Sarmatia?" Lancelot shrugged his shoulders. "I do not know. They

could all be dead, for all I know." He sighed. "Perhaps the home I knew no

longer exists. Perhaps it is only a dream, now." Eadwyn cocked her head to

the side and gently put her hand over his. "If it is only a dream, then it should

be a dream worth keeping." Gazing at each other, Lancelot suddenly reached

up his hand and stroked her cheek. Her eyes went wide at the knight's act,

and Eadwyn began to blush. Breaking contact between the two, Eadwyn

muttered an apology and looked to the ground. She picked up her bowl and

started to eat, slowly, this time. After some time of eating in silence,

Lancelot began to speak. "So Eadwyn. I have told you of my home, Sarmatia.

Tell me of your land?" It was more a question then a command. Sighing,

Eadwyn burrowed her hands in her warm wolf cloak. "As you wish,

Lancelot." She cleared her throat. "Norwäe was actually much like this

country. Most of the year, there was snow covering the ground, as far as you

could see. It was beautiful." Lancelot scoffed and picked up a handful of

snow. "This? You call this freezing cold powder beautiful?" "It is my home."

Eadwyn sounded stung by his words. "It is the one place that will always

hold beauty in my mind." He apologized as he ate his soup, but to Eadwyn, it

didn't seem like the curly-haired knight even meant it. She continued

anyways. "My tribe had many villages for wherever we traveled. During the

summer, we would move west, to the sea. Do you know what that is like,

coming out from the forest onto the coast? I can still smell the ocean. Hear

the seagulls flying in the air. The water was cold, of course, but I remember

my sisters and I would always be the first to run into the little waves. My

brother would be standing watch over us." She laughed. "What could a little

boy do against anyone?" Lancelot glanced her way, and he saw that her eyes

were brimming with tears. She was pulled out of her memory by the sound

of someone clearing their throat. They both looked up and saw Galahad. He

was looking very uncomfortable. "Can I join you?" Eadwyn blinked rapidly

and smiled. "Of course." "I thought you might like some company on your

watch, Lancelot." He sat down on the ground opposite Lancelot and Eadwyn.

"There is something I've heard, that I wanted to ask you, Eadwyn. Do you…

do the Volkaric really kill their children if they are female?" Upon hearing

this, Eadwyn threw her head back and laughed. Lancelot decided right then

that he loved hearing her laugh. It was deep, like a man's, yet high and

giggly, like young woman's. She laughed until she had tears rolling down her

cheeks, and she began to cough. Still giggling, she asked the youngest

knight, "If they did, would I be here?" Galahad smiled timidly. (You know,

that smile he has when he is asked if that is his 'happy face'?) "No, I guess

you're right. "You said something about your people being born from

wolves. Will you tell us that myth?" Smiling widely, she nodded eagerly.

"Alright. Long ago, before my people came to be, there was a beautiful Lady

named Merkiel. She was not like the other Ladies of her court. She was not

charming, or graceful. She had always felt as if she did not belong in the

Court of her cousin, who was the king. The only place Merkiel felt at home

was in the forests around her home. She would always be scolded for

coming back with her gowns dirty and torn, but that did not stop her from

going deep into the woods. One day, while resting near a brook, she saw the

reflection of a large white wolf. This wolf was larger than any before she

had seen, for indeed, this was no ordinary wolf. I was the God Woden in

disguise. Woden is the king of the Gods. He is the protector of nature, and

animals, and can take the form of a wolf. Merkiel somehow knew that the

wolf would not hurt her. She would come to the spot everyday, hoping that

the wolf would come back, and everyday Woden came back. He began to

fall in love with Merkiel, so one afternoon, he decided to show Merkiel his

true form. She instantly fell in love with Woden, and two made love right

then, next to their brook. Woden told her that he wanted Merkiel to come

and live with him in the Good Land, and that he would come for her in

fourteen days. Then he left her to return to her family and tell them. Her

family, though, thought that Merkiel had gone mad. Her cousin, the King,

upon hearing her story, flew into a jealous rage and stabbed Merkiel. You

see, Merkiel was suppose to be wed to the King later that summer, although

she had refused. Leaving his cousin for dead, the King locked the gates, and

threatened execution to anyone who helped her. Woden saw this, and seeing

that his love was about to die, he transformed Merkiel's body into that of a

wolf. He brought Merkiel to a new land, Norwäe, which is where she had her

twin babies. A girl, Briel, and a boy, Bädwen. They became the first co-

rulers of the Volkaric. When Merkiel-wolf died, Woden gave her back her

human form, and brought her to live with him in the Good Land as his

Queen. So you see, my people were the offspring of two wolf gods." When

Eadwyn had finished her story, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were

sparkling. Lancelot could not help being drawn to her voice. Galahad was

just staring at her. "Will you tell us what they did to you?" Instantly, her

eyes lost their sparkle. "I have told you many things this day, but that I will

not tell you, Knight." She got up to leave, but Galahad beat her to it. "No,

Lady. I'm sorry. You stay, I'll go." When Eadwyn turned to Lancelot, she

was surprised to see his face was so close to hers. He reached out and

stroked her cheek once again. "What are you doing?" She blinked rapidy as

Lancelot just smiled softly. He brought her lips to his and kissed her gently.

Eadwyn's eyes went wide before closing and let the knight bring her into his

arms. At first she was afraid; Cyrnic had kissed her, and then he had punched

her in the jaw. She knew that Lancelot was not going to hit her, but kissing

held nothing but bad memories for her. He broke apart and looked deep into

her eyes. "I'm sorry, Eadwyn. I didn't mean to." She just put her hand on her

cheek, which was not a dark shade of red. She didn't know what to do.

Lancelot made her feel strange; it was a feeling that she had never felt

before. She tried to remind herself that the Volkaric were scared of nothing,

but this knight made her feel timid. "No," she found herself saying. "Do not

be sorry. I…I liked it." "Am I to assume, then, that….we will be sharing a

bed once we reach the wall?" Lancelot smirked and moved in for another

kiss, but Eadwyn pulled back. She was caught off guard, and her mouth fell

open and she chuckled. "If you do, Knight, then you assume too much." He

was very confused now. Was Eadwyn refusing him? That had never happened

before. "Where are you going?" Lancelot asked her, as she got up from the

ground. She just smiled coyly, and brushed the snow off of her wolf pelt. "I

have to be getting back to the wagon. I do not want to distract you from your

duty." Watching her as she walked back to her wagon, Lancelot grumbled

under his breath. "Women!" He sighed.

------------------------------------------------

Eadwyn woke up the next morning just in time to see Marius Honorius die

by Guinevere's arrow, and his mercenaries agree to help Arthur. She was

still groggy when Tristan came riding into the camp. She heard Bors ask

how many Tristan was able to kill. The answer was four. "Not a bad start to

the day," Bors laughed. Tristan told Arthur that the Saxons were close, and

that they had no time. Arthur told him to ride ahead, and then went to talk

with Alecto. "I'm sorry for your loss." Alecto, however, didn't seem too

affected. "My father lost his way," he told Arthur. He used to say, the

church is there to help us stay on our path. It didn't help those he made

suffer." "The path he chose was beyond the reach of the Church, Alecto."

Arthur said. Eadwyn saw Alecto shake his head. Arthur was stunned and

saddened to learn that his father-figure and mentor, Pelagius, had been

murdered a year ago. Eadwyn looked at Alecto, and he waved he over.

Coming towards him, his face broke out in a large smile. "Julia…" He

blushed. "I mean, Eadwyn. Is this not a good day?" "What do you mean?" She

asked him. She was confused. How could a day be good when your father is

killed in front of you? /I should know./ "Do you not understand? With my

father gone, we can marry, just as we planned." The look on his face nearly

broke her heart. His mother, Fulcinia, came up behind him with a look of

sorrow on her pretty face. She knew, as well as Eadwyn did, that the

marriage could never happen. Fulcinia knew what they had done to her.

"Alecto." She sighed. "You know that can never happen." "Why not?" He

demanded. "We can go back to Rome, and you can be Julia again. No one

knows what has happened here. We can act as if none of this has happened."

Eadwyn didn't know whether to laugh, or hit Alecto. She just shook her

head. "Alecto, I am not Julia, nor will I ever be again. I am free to find my

people now, just as you are free to go back to Rome. Do you really think

you can silence all the people here? Word is bound to get out that your wife

is a savage," she said with a scowl. She looked over at Fulcinia. The kind

woman had taken care of her as best she could, and now she would never see

her again, once she and her son left this land. She felt like crying. "Alecto, it

is your duty to go back to Rome. You must marry a nice Roman girl, and

become a Bishop. It is what you were born to do." Alecto's bottom lip

quivered for just a second, and then went stiff. "Then you, Eadwyn, must

come to Rome one day. When I am Pope, you will visit me?" Eadwyn

smiled despite her self doubt. "When you are Pope, I will come to Rome

and visit you in your grand villa." This seemed to please the boy, for he gave

her a quick hug, and walked away with his mother. Letting out the breath she

had been holding, she allowed Lucan, the sweet boy that he was, lead her

back to the wagon. She was unaware that a certain dark-haired knight had

been watching her. They had been traveling less than a hour when the

entourage came to a frozen lake. "Is there any other way?" Arthur asked

Tristan. "No." He said. "We have to cross the ice." Arthur digested this bad

news. After a moment, he told his Knights, "Get them all out of the

carriages. Tell them to spread out." The Knights got off of their horses and

started to slowly lead them, and the people across the ice. The sounds of

cracking ice below their feet scared everyone. Arthur held up his hand and

halted the train of people. The Saxon drums were very near, and the Knights

looked at one another. Guinevere and Eadwyn glanced around, and both got

out of their wagon. Arthur turned around and faced his Knights. "Knights,"

began Arthur. All the men had something to say. "Well I'm tired of running,"

Bors told the men. "And these Saxons are so close behind, my arse is

hurting." Tristan said, "Never liked looking over my shoulder anyway."

Dagonet smirked. "It'll be a pleasure to put an end to this racket," was

Gawain's opinion. Galahad smiled. "We'll finally get a look at the bastards."

Dagonet was already moving. "Here. Now." Lancelot shook his head

disapprovingly. Everyone started to unload weapons and equipment. "Ganis,"

Arthur called out to the serf. "I need you to lead the people. The main Saxon

army is inland so if you track the coastline until you're well south of the

wall, you'll be safe." Ganis was stunned. "You're seven against two

hundred!" Eadwyn watched as Guinevere came to stand with the Knights.

"Eight. You could use another bow." Following right behind her, Eadwyn

picked up one of the smaller swords. "Nine," was all she needed to say.

Ganis was hesitant. "I'd rather stay and fight." Arthur shook his head. "You'll

get your chance soon enough." To the mercenaries, he called out, "This man

is your captain. You do as he says, understand?" They all nodded. "Well then

go. Go!" The Knights were unloading the gear when Alecto came up behind

them. "I am able. I can fight." "No." Was Arthur's answer. "You must bear

witness to what you have seen." He put his hand on Alecto's face. "There's

one thing you must do, and that's get back to Rome." All of the wagons start

to leave as Dagonet waved goodbye to Lucan. Sadly, the little boy waved

back. Then, they were alone with their pile of weapons. The wind was

blowing, and the Saxons finally arrived. "Hold until I give the command,"

said Arthur. Lancelot smirked and turned to Guinevere. "You look

frightened." He sighed. "There's a large number of lonely men out there."

The Woad just glared at him. "Don't worry, I won't let them rape you."

Eadwyn narrowed her eyes when she saw the leader of these men. "Cyrnic!"

She growled. On the other side of the ice, the Saxon called for his archer.

The man shot an arrow, but it just skidded across the ice, not hitting any

Knights. "We are out of range," he told Cyrnic. "I can see that," his

commander hissed. "I believe they're waiting for an invitation," Arthur told

his men. "Tristan, Bors." "But they are far out of range," Guinevere spoke

up. Arthur just smiled as the two Knights shot off arrows, and watched as

they hit their targets. Two Saxon men fell down dead. Cyrnic, becoming

even more angry, starts marching his men over the ice. The nine people

draw their bows. "Aim for the wings of the ranks. Make them cluster." It had

been a very long time since Eadwyn had shot a bow, but she was still pretty

good at it. Cyrnic realized what was going on. "Hold the ranks!" He cried.

More of the ice was starting to crack. "Hold the ranks!" Shouted a Saxon

commander. "Hold the ranks!" "Hold the ranks," called Cyrnic. "Or I'll kill

you myself!" The Saxons keep marching, but the ice wasn't breaking. "Fall

back," cried Arthur. "Fall back!" He drew Excalibur. "Prepare for combat."

The Knights put down their bows, and picked up their swords. Dagonet was

fidgety. Suddenly, he dropped his sword, picked up his axe, and ran forward,

yelling. "Dag!" Cried Bors. "Cover him!" The Knights went back to their

bows. "Archers," yelled Cyrnic. "Move, move." Dagonet began hacking at

the ice so that it would crack. "Kill him! Kill him!" Dagonet made it through

the ice, and it started to break just as he got shot with an arrow. Arthur

dropped his bow and ran forward. Dagonet had three arrows sticking out of

his side, but he was still hacking at the ice. It fully breaks, and the Saxons

began to fall through into water. Dagonet fell into water, mostly dead.

Arthur caught him and pulled him out. But it was to late; Dagonet was

already dead. Guinevere saw Cyrnic and tried to kill him, but her arrow

missed. He looked over from Guinevere and spotted Eadwyn. His eyes

narrowed as he realized who she was, and he sneered. She gave Cyrnic the

vilest look she could muster. He pointed a finger directly at her, and then

retreated.

--------------------------------------

The Knights and the caravans slowly made it back to Hadrian's Wall. Bishop

Germanius saw Alecto, and smiled. "Ah! Good! Christ be praised! Against

all the odds Satan could possi- Alecto! Let me see you! You have

triumphed! Young Alecto! Let me see you! You are here!" Lucan

immediately got off the wagon and ran to find Dagonet. Guinevere tried to

call him back, but he didn't listen. "You!" Cried a Roman Soldier. "Boy!"

Galahad drew a dagger and held it to the soldier's neck. Guinevere held the

boy's shoulders as he took Dagonet's ring and held it to his chest. Eadwyn

watched in sorrow as all but one of the Knights received their discharge

papers. She also stood with the Knights as they held a small funeral for their

fallen friend. Lancelot was standing beside her, and she lightly touched his

arm. "Lancelot?" He looked down at Eadwyn with tears in his eyes. She

didn't say anything; she just pilled him into a hug. Uncertain at first,

Lancelot wrapped his arms around Eadwyn and hugged back. He wouldn't let

the tears fall, but Eadwyn could feel his small sobs. They don't know how

long they stood there, but before she knew it, Lancelot's lips were on hers

once again. Eadwyn knew then that Lancelot needed a release from his grief.

She decided that it was the least she could do. Somehow, the two made it

from the cemetery to Lancelot's chambers without either of them noticing

it. Breaking apart, Lancelot looked into her eyes. "Are you sure?" Eadwyn

smiled softly and nodded. "Yes. I am sure." Lancelot stroked her cheek with

his left hand, and unclasped her cloak with his right. Slightly unsure of what

to do with herself, Lancelot helped her by taking off his armor himself, and

then she was able to slip his shirt from his body. Eadwyn took in his form.

He had muscular arms, and a well toned upper body. She found that she liked

the way he looked. He brought her over to his bed and laid her down.

Settling himself down on her, Lancelot lowered his head and kissed Eadwyn

passionately. Unclasping her dress, she lay with her chest exposed to him.

His eyes went wide as if he was seeing her for the first time. He cupped her

breast with the cool palm of his hand as his other hand untied his pants.

Eadwyn had seen men before, but Lancelot amazed her. She wriggled out of

her dress, and they both stared at each other. Although he had been with

many different women, in Lancelot's eyes, she was the most beautiful

creature he had ever seen. "This might hurt a little," he told Eadwyn. She just

shook her head; she doubted that it would hurt more then the last times. "It's

alright. The Volkaric can handle pain," she smirked. Bracing herself, her

hand gripped Lancelot's arm as he entered her. Eadwyn's mouth opened

slightly, and Lancelot kissed her gently as he waited until she was used to

him. With her consent, he began to move within her. Eadwyn's fingers dug

into his back as her pain turned to pleasure, again and again, until very early

in the morning.

---------------------------------------------


	4. Vaarwel

A/N: Alright, for these chapters, I'm stretching out the time it took for the Saxons to get to the wall.

--------------------------

Lancelot awoke first.

He looked beside him at Eadwyn. As he watched her sleep, he felt his chest tighten. He had been with many women, but it was so different with her. Her coffee coloured hair was spread out like a fan over her shoulders and her hand was laying on Lancelot's chest. He noticed that Eadwyn slept with her mouth slightly open. He bent his head down to kiss her on the forehead, and watched her wake up. She smiled, still half asleep, and rolled away from him.

"Good morning." Was all Eadwyn said. She tried to get up from the bed, but Lancelot pulled her back. "No," he asked her. "Stay?" Rolling her eyes and smiling, Eadwyn let the knight pull her into his arms again.

"I assumed correctly, then."

Remembering what he had told her about sharing his bed, he began to laugh as she hit his arm. Then they lay together, skin against skin, in a comfortable silence.

Eadwyn was unsure of what to do next. Was she to lay with him until he tired of her? Lancelot had pulled her back into the bed once already. What if they were to spend the entire day in bed? Surely people would notice that they both could not be found. She sighed against his chest. "

Why do you keep me here with you?" Eadwyn asked the Knight. "Is it not the custom of you, to send women on their way the next morning?"

Lancelot thought about that question. "You are different then the others," he told her truthfully. "I like the way you feel in my arms."

Eadwyn did not know how to respond.

"Why do you stay, then?" He smirked down at her. "You, who could easily render me unconcious and leave anyway?" Eadwyn looked up and gazed into Lancelot's deep brown eyes and gave a little smile.

"Because. I like the way I feel in your arms."

Hearing this, Lancelot gave a small smile. "What will you do now," he asked her. "Now that you are free?"

He heard her sigh.

"I want to try and find my brother, and the rest of my tribe. But I don't even know where to start."

"And where will you go, if you find them?" Eadwyn sat up and covered herself with the sheet. "I don't know. We can't go back to our land; it is ruled by the Saxons now. Perhaps it is my fate to stay in Britton." A sudden image flashed into Eadwyn's mind. She and Lancelot, together. Shaking her head, the image left her and she got to her feet.

Taking the sheet with her, Eadwyn left Lancelot with nothing but his own skin. Being stark naked didn't sem to bother him, for he just propped his head up with his arm and smirked. "Why do you blush so? It's nothing you haven't seen before," he laughed.

Turning away, Eadwyn silently scolded herself. This was not like her. She was Volkaric. Volkaric did not blush!

Lancelot got of the bed and came to stand behind her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he rested his chin on her shoulder. Eadwyn could feel the hot breath on her neck, and it sent tingles down her spine. "You could always stay here," he whispered.

She turned to face him, hazel eyes looking into brown. "You would want me to stay at the Wall?" Her voice was so soft, Laneclot strained to hear it. Eadwyn didn't know what to say. Feeling herself get flustered, she broke away from him and gathered up her dress. Dropping the sheet, she pulled the dress over her head and walked towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Lancelot called. But Eadwyn didn't answer.

She couldn't.

Running into the room Arthur had provided for her, Eadwyn threw herself onto the bed. What was wrong with her? She had never acted this way with any man. Whenever she thought of Lancelot, her stomach felt strange, like there were insects flying around inside it. She had always considered feelings like these a weakness, but now...Eadwyn wasn't so sure.

She had never dealt with a man that made her stomach flip-flop in such a way, and Eadwyn wasn't sure that she liked it. As much as she hated to admit it, she was frightened of the way she felt when she thought about Lancelot.

She knew nothing of love, although she had heard it described to her by her mother. As Eadwyn thought back, she remembered that her mother and her father's marriage had been arranged. But they grew to love each other so much, and had a happy life.

"Until the end," Eadwyn said, bitter. Her confusion about Lancelot quickly turned into rage at the thought of the Saxons. Walking to her window, she looked out and into the sky. Judging by the position of the sun, Eadwyn guessed that it had to be two hours passed noon. 'Had we been in bed for so long?' She thought to herself.

She quickly put on her thick fur cloak and walked out of her room. She passed Jols on her way out of the chambers, and he told her the way to the stables. When she was in Rome, Eadwyn would go there whenever she was upset. Walking into the stables, she saw the young Knight and the blonde Knight saddling their horses.

'Galahad and Gawain,' she remembered.

She hadn't seen much of them, other than at Dagonet's funeral. Gawain took notice of the girl first, and nodded his head. "Good afternoon, Lady. I trust you are well now?"

Eadwyn smiled. This Knight was concerned for her and it warmed her heart. "Yes, thank-you." Galahad handed his reins to a servant, and walked over to her. "What would a lady such as yourself be doing down here?" he asked her, referring to the muddy stables.

Eadwyn looked to the horses in the stalls. "Nothing. I just wished to see the horses. If that is alright with you," she finished. Petting the light brown horse, Eadwyn gave a small smile as the animal winnied.

"We are going to scout outside the wall until nightfall. Would you care to accompany us?" Galahad asked her. Gawain hit him on the arm and frowned.

"Are you mad?" Gawain asked. "We can't bring her with us."

Eadwyn heard him and scowled. "Why not? I certainly know what I'm doing." Galahad nodded. "There'll be no trouble, Gawain. Lady, I will get you a horse." He walked to a stall and harnessed the brown mare that Eadwyn had been petting, while she follwed.

"This is why I hate children," Gawain muttered to himself.

Eadwyn held her horse while Galahad put a saddle on her. "I should probably tell you, I've never ridden a real horse before," she admitted. Galahad looked at her.

"Really?"

Eadwyn nodded. "Really. As a child I rode small ponies, but that's about it." Galahad looked to where Gawain was standing, looking annoyed. "Maybe you shouldn't mention that to Gawain. I'll help you."

Eadwyn found that riding was easier than it first seemed, once one has gotten on the saddle. Holding onto the reins, Eadwyn was given a bow and a small quiver of arrows. "Are you finding it difficult, Lady?" Galahad whispered. Eadwyn shook her head. "No. But please, might you stop calling me Lady? I should like it better if you used my name."

Galahad and Gawain, who was riding up ahead, grinned. "If you wish." And so the three rode along the wall, finding no trouble, with Eadwyn's backside getting more and more sore. As she looked out at the British landscape, Eadwyn wondered where her people could possibly be.

It was obvious that they were north of the wall, and if she had to guess, Eadwyn would say that they were in central Britton. Not to far north or south, most likely on the coast. Finding out which one would be the hard part of searching.

As the sun began to set, Eadwyn decided that in the coming days, she should leave the wall and begin her search. When they returned to the stables, it was well passed nightfall, and the men were in higher spirits then they had been the last few nights.

They both had to do scout duty the next night as well, and Eadwyn was invited to come along again. She agreed, and was told to meet them at the stables at the same time. Walking back to her room, Eadwyn was careful to avoid Lancelot. She didn't know why, but she didn't want to face him. Perhaps she was afraid he would just dismiss her, as he had done with so many other women.

The next night was just as pleasant, and Gawain was much more talkative. Again there was no trouble, and the three soon returned to the stables. "Shall we go to the tavern?" Gawain asked as he gave his reins to a groom. Galahad nodded and looked to Eadwyn. He saw a curious look come into her eyes, and he smiled. "Would you like to come along?"

She nodded and caught up with the men. She had been in many taverns before she was caught and sold. It was an excellent place to go when one needed information. She may not need information now, but it was a chance to get to know the men that had saved her life. Although she had been avoiding Lancelot for two days, Eadwyn came to realise that she would have to see him tonight.

Walking into the tavern, she saw many men. Farmers and Roman soldiers, and the Knights. She saw the bald one, Bors and and the silent one, Tristan; They were throwing knives at a target. Beside them sat Lancelot, with a woman sitting on his lap.

Just like in the woods with Guinevere, Eadwyn felt her eyes narrow into slits. She could tell that he was drunk simply by the way he held his head, but Lancelot stood up with a knife in hand. With his arm still around the woman, he threw the knife at the target. The men cheered as he hit the bullseye, and he went to retreive it. J

ust as Lancelot grabbed ahold of the hilt, Eadwyn reached into her cloak, pulled out a small dagger and threw it at the target, almost skimming Lancelot's face. Jumping back in surprise, Lancelot and the other men turned to see an angry Eadwyn standing with her arm still extended.

Sending a scathing look to both Lancelot and the woman, Eadwyn turned and walked away. She quickened her pace when she heard the Knight behind her.

"Wait," he called after her. "Eadwyn, wait!"

This only made her move faster, her gown flowing behind her.

"Damnit woman, would you slow down?" She didn't listen; she just ran to her room and slipped through the doors. Finally catching up, Lancelot threw the doors open and followed her in.

He saw that Eadwyn had a small pack on her bed, and she was quickly packing it with things.

"What's all this?" He asked.

Eadwyn didn't even looked up at him. "I'm leaving the wall."

"Why?" He smirked. "Because of the barmaid?" Lancelot laughed. "Don't leave because of that." Throwing a small comb into the pack, Eadwyn glared up at him.

"I'm leaving to find my people," she snapped. "The barmaid has nothing to do with it." Lancelot came around to stand beside her and grabbed onto her shoulders.

"Don't be angry," he said. Eadwyn could hear his voice beginning to slur. "She meant nothing to me, as you do." He brushed her hair away from her face, but she just slapped his hand away.

"Stop it. You are drunk."

He just wiggled his dark eye brows. "So what. I'm still an excellent lover." Eadwyn had to mask her disgust. Surely all men weren't like Lancelot when they drank. She hoped not. "Go tell it to your barmaid," she sneered. Lancelot found humour in this, and he smirked again.

"You're jealous."

Eadwyn didn't respond at first. "I've had you once, and that was only for your benefit. Therefore, I shall not be having you again. Leave my room," she comanded. To Eadwyn's growing rage, Lancelot...simply sighed. He sat on her bed, tossing aside her pack.

"You're really leaving?" Eadwyn nodded. "Yes. I must find my people." "But I don't want you to go," he told her. Eadwyn just rolled her eyes. "I'm sure many other women will help ease the pain," she said, her voice full of sarcasm.

Eadwyn didn't like how she was feeling right now.

Was this jealousy?

Lancelot fell backward onto her pillow and blinked hard. "Must you come back to that? It's true that I'm...not selfish with my love, but that has changed now." Eadwyn's hands froze in midair.

"Why?" She asked.

"Because I've met you," Lancelot said. There was nothing in his eyes but seriousness. He smiled as Eadwyn's face softened. Cautiously, he sat up, reached for her hand and took it in his own.

Sighing, Eadwyn allowed Lancelot to draw her close to him. She stood between his legs as Lancelot placed a kiss on the gown over her stomach. "You don't have to leave tonight, do you? Stay."

Pulling her down to him, Lancelot brought Eadwyn's lips to his own. Laying back on the bed, Lancelot flipped them over so that Eadwyn lay beneath him.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he whispered, as he kissed the nape of her neck. Eadwyn smirked. She could feel exactly what she did to him, right on her hip. As Lancelot's kisses grew more and more frantic, Eadwyn thrust up with her hips, hearing him moan loudly.

Pushing her blue gown up over her hips, Lancelot ripped off her underclothes and went to work with his hands. Hearing Eadwyn's quiet moans, Lancelot felt his pants grow increasingly tighter. He quickly removed them, and in one savage move, he was inside her.

Eadwyn gave a sharp cry and the Knight began to thrust with his hips. Feeling more confident than the last time, Eadwyn matched Lancelot's moves with her own. Very soon, he was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and he was close to climax.

Panting, Lancelot looked into Eadwyn's hazel eyes. Kissing her, he whispered, "I love you," into her dark hair. That pushed him over the edge. Both he and Eadwyn cried out as Lancelot's release came in full force.

They both lay not moving, until Lancelot rolled onto his back. Eadwyn was still in shock over what he had told her. He loved her? Looking over at him a moment later, she saw that Lancelot was already asleep. Pushing a curl behind his ear, she leaned over.

"I...I think I love you, too," she whispered, before settling down beside him.

When she woke up, Lancelot was gone. Eadwyn, swayed by what she had been told, decided that a few more days at the wall couldn't hurt. Calling in one of the maids that Arthur had sent, she told the girl that she would like a bath. The maid soon had a tub full of hot water, and Eadwyn was left to soak.

'I wonder why Lancelot was not there when I woke up?' She thought to herself. She thought about what she told him the night before. 'I wonder if he heard it.' In a way, she hoped that he hadn't.

Eadwyn knew that her newly developed feelings for Lancelot would make it harder for both of them when she left to find her people.

'I wouldn't have to be gone for long. I could always come back to the wall. Or perhaps, now that the Knight's are free, Lancelot would come with me.' This thought made Eadwyn smile. They could live happily amoung her people. She would regain her high rank, and he could enjoy all the privilages that came with it.

Eadwyn dunked the back of her hair into the water. Her spirits were now soaring as she got out of the tub. Drying off, she put on a red gown of Fulcinia's, and tied her hair in a dark braid. Wrapping it around the crown of her head, Eadwyn left her chambers and went in search of Galahad.

She found that she liked this Knight; he reminded Eadwyn of her older brother, Ewin. 'Perhaps he is at the training grounds,' she thought to herself. Walking down the long corridors, Eadwyn made her way down to the training grounds. She did not see Galahad anywhere, but she did find Lancelot sparring with a Roman soldier. She smiled slightly, before chiding herself.

'I must not let these feelings make me...soft.' She told herself. Steeling herself, Eadwyn waited until they were finished, and then moved closer to the men. She saw the Roman wipe his brow and laugh at something Lancelot said. Upon seeing Eadwyn, he eyed her wearily, and stepped back, and Lancelot turned around.

Eadwyn was suprised to see the coldness that lay there.

She blinked quickly but then stepped toward Lancelot. "What are you doing down here?" He asked her. His voice lacked the warmth that it usually had. "You were gone when I awoke," she began. Lancelot shrugged.

"I had things to do," was all he said.

Eadwyn bit her lip; she didn't like the akward silence that fell upon them. He leaned on one of his swords and looked Eadwyn up and down. "Was there something that you needed?" She tightened the grip on her cloak and lifted her chin.

"About last night..."

Lancelot cleared his throat, interrupting her. "Yes, about last night. When I drink, I tend to say things that are not true. I appologize for saying anything...rash to you."

At that moment, Eadwyn felt her chest grow tight, and it was as if her heart was being squeezed by an iron grip.

'He didn't mean it,' she realised.

She felt her blood run cold as Lancelot just stood there, looking uninterested. He saw her eyes narrow, and they were like two twin pools of ice. Lancelot swallowed hard when he saw her smile at him. It was more of a sneer, though, and it chilled him.

"That is exactly why I came here. Now that I have your appology, I can be on my way." Without saying another word, Eadwyn turned and walked back to her chambers.

She forced herself to walk calmly instead of running as fast as she could, which is what she wanted to do. Walking into her room, she slammed the door shut as hard as she could and sat down on her bed. Although it felt as if her insides were shattering, Eadwyn held her tears at bay.

"This is what happens when I allow myself to get close to someone like him," she hissed. She knew full well what Lancelot was like, and still she chose to let herself develope feelings for him.

"No longer," she said aloud. "I will remain here no longer." Standing up, Eadwyn walked out of her room and down the hall to Galahad's chambers. Knocking three times, her face regained it's stoney mask as he answered the door.

"Good day, Eadwyn." He smiled when he saw her, and Eadwyn nearly faltered. "Good afternoon. May I come in?" Galahad looked shocked by her request, but he stepped aside none the less. "What can I do for you, Eadwyn?" He asked her. She cut right to the chase. "I am in need of a pair of breeches. Leather. For riding."

He gave her a questioning look, before he understood why.

"You're leaving, then?" She nodded curtly. "Aye. I have lingered here to long. It is time for me to search for my people." Here she allowed herself a small smile. "And I cannot ride in a gown like this." He gave a sad smile before walking to his chest and pulling out a pair of black pants that was made out of soft black leather.

"These have outgrown me. They will fit you well, I think." He gave them to her, along with a small dagger. "To replace the one you lost the other night." Eadwyn took the gifts and thanked the youngest Knight.

She found that she was going to miss him, and she suddenly pulled off her necklace. "Here. Keep this." She gave it to him, and Galahad saw it was a small charm in the form of a wolf pendant. Grinning, he slipped it over his head and tucked it underneath his tunic. "Thank you, Eadwyn." He opened the door for her and watched as she re-entered her room.

"Lancelot," he said, shaking his head.

Back in Eadwyn's room, she quickly gathered up the remaineder of her things and put them in her pack. When she was finished, she decided that it would be safer to wait until nightfall, lest anyone try to stop her from leaving. So making her way down into the kitchens, Eadwyn quickly took three loaves of bread and seven thick strips of dried meat.

"That should last me some time until I must hunt," she said to herself when she was safely back in her room. Settling herself down on the cold floor, she prayed to her God Woden so that he would grant her the strength for her journey.

There was the distant sound of someone knocking on her door, but Eadwyn paid it no attention. When she was pulled from her trance-like state, she was glad to see that twilight had already fallen apon her, and she would be able to leave this place.

Picking up her pack, she exited her room and ran down to the stables. When she was halfway there, however, Eadwyn ran into an unexpected guest. Guinevere stepped out of the shadows as she ran by, grabbing Eadwyn's arm. "What are you doing?" She asked. Eadwyn cast off the Woad's strong grip and took a step back.

"I could ask you the same question, Guinevere."

The two women stood facing each other for a moment, both of them eying the other down, before Guinevere relented. "Where are you going at this late hour?" She arched an eyebrow when she saw Eadwyn's pack.

"You are leaving?" Eadwyn nodded, ignoring Guinevere's angry look. "So you're going to run away, then? Just when people need you most?"

"Me?" Eadwyn asked. "Why would anyone need me?"

Guinevere shook her head. "With the battle that's coming up against the Saxons...we need every fighter that we can get?"

"Who is 'we', Guinevere? The Romans? The Knights? They are all leaving. What you mean is 'your people'." Eadwyn snapped.

"You hate the Saxons just as much as my people," the older girl pointed out.

"My own people mean more to me than your land ever could. I don't give a damn if the Saxon's take it over, just as long as I find my tribe and we leave this island unharmed."

Guinevere's eyes narrowed into slits. "You coward," she sneered. "Innocent people will die in this battle. They will die trying to free their homeland, and the only thing you can do is run away?" There was a spilt second of silence, before Guienevere lost conciousness. She never even saw Eadwyn's fist coming towards her face.

"I run to find help within my tribe. Your numbers are to few," she told the sleeping Woad. Rubbing her knuckles, Eadwyn slipped out the door and into the stables.

She put a bridal on her horse, the light brown mare that Galahad had 'given' to her, and put on the sadle. Riding to the gates, she told the gatekeeper that she was going out to scout, and he opened the gate hastily.

She waited until the gatekeeper was out of sight, before spurring the horse, Fenella, into a gallop. She rode at a hard run for half an hour, then stopped Fenella and turned her around.

"Vaarwel, Knights," she whispered, bidding them goodbye in her language.

Biting her lip, Eadwyn torn her gaze away from the wall and kicked Fenella on once more. Away from the men that had saved her life. Away from the man that had broken her heart.

------------------------------

That chapter took me so long to finish...ugh. Hope you liked it. More soon, hopefully!


	5. The Wolfer's return

The next morning when Lancelot woke up, he had a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. One that he couldn't understand.

He lay in his bed, basking in the early morning light for some time before he sat up. Lancelot spied the tray of food placed at the end of his bed, so he got up and began eating his breakfast. As he ate, he had but one thought in his head, and that was Eadwyn.

His one desire was to go see her, but Lancelot fought the urge. What he told her the other night was true, he did in fact love her. But those feelings were completely new to the Knight, and it frightened him. He knew he shouldn't have even said it; it would obviously complicate things. Lancelot was leaving this wretched island, and Eadwyn would soon be leaving Hadrian's Wall to search for her tribe.

When he brushed her off yesterday, it had been for both of their sakes. It hurt now, but it would be better in the long run.

'She would have come with you,' was the thought that was popping into Lancelot's mind.

'After she found her tribe. But that was before you dismissed her.'

Shaking his head in frustration, Lancelot threw his handful of grapes to the floor and sat back down on his bed. He shouldn't be thinking of this. He was a free man now, he should be thinking about going home. After fifteen long years, the Knights were finally able to return to Sarmatia.

His hand went to his throat, feeling the necklace his sister had given him so long ago.

His sister.

Was she even alive today? Was any of his family still alive? Growling, Lancelot stood up and began to dress. Thoughts like that left him feeling hollow inside.

Walking out of his chambers, Lancelot decided to join whoever was in the main hall. When he entered the room, he took his seat at the Round table and looked at his fellow Knights. They were all present, except Bors and Arthur. Galahad looked hungover, as did Gawain.

Tristan just looked bored.

Lancelot was about to speak, when Arthur walked through the doors with Guinevere. The Knights looked up, and all their eyes went wide. Not only was her arm linked with Arthur's, but Guinevere had a rather large bruise over her left eye.

"Lady," Gawain began. "What has happened?"

They all saw the Woad's eyes narrow, and she spat out, "Eadwyn." Lancelot's eyebrows shot up. "Eadwyn did this?" He asked. Guinevere nodded. "She did. As she was leaving."

At this, Lancelot stood from his chair. "She's gone?!"

"Aye," was the reply, but it did not come from Guinevere. It came from across the table, from Galahad. Lancelot turned his dark head to the youngest Knight. "You knew?"

Galahad nodded. "Yes. I gave her some breeches for riding last night." Lancelot felt his blood begin to boil, but he didn't want to make a scene in front of everyone. So he got a hold of his anger and sat back down. Arthur began to speak, but Lancelot couldn't bring himself to pay attention. A first for him. All he could think about was Eadwyn. She was gone? Why hadn't Galahad told him? Why had he let her go? But even as he thought it, Lancelot knew that nothing short of death would hinder her quest to find her tribe.

Mentally shaking his head, Lancelot forced himself to tune into what Arthur was telling them all. "...stay a few more weeks. Until the roads are safe for travel." Gawain, Galahad and Lancelot stood up, each of them more than a bit angry.

"Stay on this island a few more weeks, Arthur?" Gawain asked, enraged. Galahad narrowed his eyes at Arthur. "We are this close to returning home, and yet you still keep it beyond our reach." He laughed, as if he was being told a joke. "You can't be serious."

Arthur nodded. "I fear that it will be a dangerous trek with so many people fleeing the island."

"We've had fifteen years of dangerous treks, Arthur," Lancelot pointed out. "Leaving this place will be an easy task, and a blessed one at that. You can't keep us here. We are all free men now."

Arthur sighed and nodded. "I'm aware of that, Lancelot. I only think of your safety." The three Knights sat back down, and Tristan cleared his throat. "A few more weeks will not do any harm. I will stay." Then he stood up and left the room.

The Knights were silent for a moment before Gawain stood up and left, cursing as he walked out the door. Galahad followed shortly after, leaving Arthur, Lancelot and Guinevere alone.

"Is our safety the only reason you want us to stay, Arthur?" Lancelot asked. He cast a look at Giunevere and then left the room as well. He was frowning as he made his way down the hall, stunned at what he had just heard. Eadwyn was gone? He knew she would have left evantually, but the news still hit hit hard.

In his anger, Lancelot missed Galahad, who was leaning against the wall. He was so caught up in thought that he didn't hear the young Kight approach him until he felt a hand grab his shoulder and turn him around. When his eyes met Galahad's angry face, he tried to appear nonchalant.

"What is it?" He asked Galahad casually.

"What did you say to her, Lancelot?"

The older Knight rolled his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play the fool with me," Galahad demanded. "What did you do?" Lancelot quickly began to tire of Galahad's questioning. "That's none of your concern, is it?" Galahad clenched his jaw and stared into Lancelot's eyes. "It is when Eadwyn leaves because of something you did. I know how you are with women, Lancelot. Why couldn't you have just left her alone?"

Lancelot scoffed and turned towards his rooms. "I don't have time for this. I have to go unpack."

Without saying another word, Lancelot walked away from the youngest Knight and down the hall to his chamber. Slamming the door shut, he noticed that a maid had come and cleaned up the remains of his breakfast. Looking around the room the had been his for so long, Lancelot was hit by a surge of anger. Who was Arthur to ask this of the Knights? Not their commander; not anymore. They were free men now. And yet he knew that for all the anger he felt towards him, Lancelot would do as Arthur asked and stay at the Wall.

After all, why was he so eager to go home? As he told Eadwyn, for all Lancelot knew, his family was dead and buried.

Kicking at a small chest, Lancelot let out a sound of frustration. He picked up a jug of wine that had been left in his room and uncorked it. Bringing it to his lips, Lancelot began to chug the drink until he needed to stop and take a breath. Sighing deeply, he decided what he needed to do was go down to the tavern and get drunk. This method of dealing with things had always worked very well in the past. Finishing off the last of his wine, the Knight once again left his chambers and headed for the tavern.

He wasn't suprised to see Bors there with Vanora, their children running in and out of the tables, but he wasn't expecting the Roman soldiers. It seemed as if all of them had turned up today, nobody seeming to care that it was barely passed noon. Arthur must have comanded them to stay longer as well. He walked over to a table, seeing that the other Knights were already seated. Sitting down beside Tristan, Vanora came and place a mug of ale in front of him.

"Thank-you," he mumbled.

The others already had an empty mug in front of them, and Lancelot could see that across the tavern, Bors was already drunk. He took a large swig from his mug and belched loudly.

"Here's to freedom," he smirked, lifting his cup. One by one, the Knights gave rueful smiles and lifted their mugs to meet his.

"May we find it one day," Gawain remarked. Galahad let out a bark of laughter and took a drink.

"So the girl is gone, is she?" Came Tristan's quiet voice.

Galahad nodded.

"When did she leave?" Gawain asked, finishing off his second drink.

"Last night. She came to me and asked for breeches. I gave her a dagger as well." He reached into his shirt and pulled out the pendant Eadwyn gave to him. "She gave me this. To remember her by."

Lancelot narrowed his eyes. He had seen her put it on the minute she had gotten her trunks back from the Roman boy, and she had yet to take it off. So why had she given it to Galahad? At this time, Bors wandered over and sat heavily down at the table.

"Good thing she left, Lancelot. Otherwise Galahad here would have given you some competition." He and Gawain laughed, but the others said nothing. Galahad shook his head and drank the last of his ale. "I just hope she doesn't run into any Saxons. Or Woads, for that matter. I shouldn't have let her go, she'll be heading straight for them."

"You couldn't have stopped her," Lancelot told him. Tristan gave a half smile from beside him. "And you can be sure if she comes across any Saxons, she'll deal with them quickly." All of the Knights grinned when they heard this. They all knew the hatred that Eadwyn had for the Germanic tribe. There was no doubt that she would fight with all she had to kill as many as she could.

"At least she's fit for riding," Gawain said. He thought back to what she looked like when he had pulled her out of the dungeon. It amazing how fast she, Guinevere and Lucan had recovered. After that, nothing was said. Nothing was heard other than the slurping of ale and men belching. Soon all of the men in the tavern were drunk, and the mood was somewhat better then it had been in the afternoon. Night after night, until the days turned into weeks, men flocked to the tavern much more than they had before.

With so many men still at the wall, the tavern was still a hub of business for the whores that worked there. With so much free time on their hands and Eadwyn gone, the Knights thought that Lancelot would gladly welcome the company, but he would have none of them. That isn't to say the women didn't try and lure him back to them.

He was their best customer after all.

A previous favourite of Lancelot's even went so far as to go to Gawain and demanded the blonde Knight talk some sense into him. But nothing the men could say would make the slightest difference. Soon enough, the Knights gave up trying to send him to the whores and left him to his sudden celibacy.

It was nearly a month later when Arthur finally gave his approval to those wanting to leave the Wall. When the Knights walked into the tavern around noon, there was hardly anyone there.

"That just means we can get our drinks faster," Bors laughed. The Knights' drinking continued until the evening, when men finally began to trickle into the tavern. The Knights were still there when the sky turned black, until a page ran up and told them they were needed at the front gate. Grumbling under their breath, they stumbled through the fort and made their way to the gate.

When they had made their way to the top, the Knights came upon a sight that made their stomachs clench tight.

The entire Saxon army was laid out in front of them; thousands of men camped outside Hadrian's wall waiting for the chance to crush them all. Arthur was summonded soon after, with Guinevere following after him. After a time, he turned to his men and sighed.

"Knights," he said with regret. "My journey with you must end here. May God be with you." He began to make his way down a flight of stairs and Lancelot threw the Woad an accusitory glare. Quick to run down the stairwell, he called out to his friend.

"Arthur, this is not Rome's fight. This is not your fight." The Roman didn't turn around, but Lancelot did not falter. "All these long years we've been together, all the trials we've faced. All the blood we've shed. What was it all for, if not for the reward of freedom? And now when we are so close, when it is finally within our grasp..."

He grabbed Arthur by the arm and turned the older man around. "Look at me! Does it all count for nothing?"

"You ask me that?" Arthur questioned. "You who know me best of all?" Arthur began to walk away, but the younger man jumped in front to block his way.

"Then do not do this! Only certain death awaits you here."

Why Arthur couldn't see that, Lancelot didn't know.

"Arthur, I beg you, for our friendship's sake!" Arthur shook his head.

"You be my friend now and do not dissuade me. Seize the freedom you have earned and live it for the both of us. I cannot follow you Lancelot. I now know that all the blood I have shed, all the lives I have taken have led me to this moment."

Slowly, with pensive understanding, he nodded and allowed Arthur to pass.

He stood in the dark courtyard with the villagers watching him before walking in the direction Arthur had walked, into his room to pack his belongings. The next morning found he and the other Knights, along with the Roman auxiliary and most of the villagers making last minute preparations to leave Hadrian's Wall for good.

Those that stayed behind were busy adding tar to piles of straw and feeding straw to alreayd let bonfires. As they started their journey, Bors broke away from the group, pulling his horse to a stop below the hill Arthur, upon his horse, now stood.

"Artorius!" Bors called out, holding his sword high. "Rus!"

Arthur returned the cry, giving his men their last farwell.

They continued to ride away with the feeling of guilt growing with each minute. It was when they heard the drums that their horses, perhaps thinking they were taking their riders into battle, began to get excited and rear up. As they settled their animals, an unspoken decision was made. Tristan held up the hawk on his arm and smiled.

"You are free now," he told the bird, and as the men watched the hawk fly away, they all began to smile. After donning their armour, they watched as Bors bid goodbye to Vanora before mounting their horses and galloping back to the wall. Making their way up the hill, they silently greeted Arthur and stood as one, as they had so many times before. As the Knights sat on the top of the hill, Arthur looked down at the Saxons. Their numbers were far greater than his own. He turned his head and looked to the woods. He could see Guinevere, Merlin, and the rest of the Woad troops hiding at the edge of the forest.

Waiting.

Waiting for the chance to drive out this threat to their homeland. As they sat on their horses, Arthur glanced side to side at the other men and smiled.

"Knights," he said to them. "Listen." The other five men strained their ears, blocking out the sound of the Saxon chanting, and listened. A gust of wind blew past their faces and carried on the wind was the sound of howling. Tristan looked at Arthur, who was still smiling. "Wolves."

"Eadwyn," Lancelot whispered.

"She came back?" Gawain asked. "Why?"

"To defeat the Saxons, that's why," Galahad told them. "She must have found her people and brought them here to fight."

"And she'll get her chance," Gawain said as the Knights saw the front gate being opened. The first Saxon wave entered and went into position.

Arthur spurred his horse forward and he turned to face them. "Knights," he began. "The gift of freedom is yours by right. But the home we seek resides not in some distant land. It's in us and in our actions on this day. If this be our destiny, then so be it. But let history remember that as free men we chose to make it so."

Drawing Excalibur, he lifted it into the air and the Knights followed his actions and lifted their standards. They cried out a loud 'Rus' before driving them into the earth and drawing their own weapons. Following Arthur, they left the flags and rode down the hill a ways to get closer to the Saxons.

In the woods, Guinevere stood with the archers and took aim. Letting loose a wave of arrows, the Knights watched as the first men died.

They would not be the last.

The Saxons immediately lifted their shields and took cover, only to have the Knights ride hard through the wall of men, cutting them down with their swords. Turning as the horsemen rode through them, the Saxons left their backsides unprotected and another wave of arrows was shot. The tactic worked as it was designed to work; when the Saxons turned to guard against arrows, Arthur and the men would ride through them again, bringing death to more men.

The smoke did its job well. It hid the Knights from Saxon eyes until it was too late as well as making it hard for the army to see one another. Saxon crossbows were fired, only to hit other Saxons.

Outside the gate, the rest of the army could hear nothing but men's screams. Cyrnic's hand grasped the hilt of his sword, but Cerdic gave no order to advance.

Soon the entire Saxon infantry had been cut down, save for one man who made it to the gate. Opening it and stagger ing back to the army, the Saxons saw a man bloodied and half mad. Crawling up to Cerdic's feet, he panted.

"The Knights are demons. That is the gate to Hell."

He was quickly silenced.

Finally Cerdic made a motion with his hand and the rest of the army was moved into formation. They made their way through the gate to find only the bodies of their dead comerades. Arthur looked to where Merlin was stationed and saw he was looking past the Saxons. Following his gaze, Arthur saw something that gave him hope.

From the forest outside of the wall, came another small army.

The Volkaric.

They did not scream with battle-rage, indeed they made no sound at all. They just walked slowly, almost cautiously, with their swords and axes drawn until they were almost at the gate. Then they stopped.

Even when the Saxons went into position and began to march forward they did not make a move to enter the gate. Only when the Woads came screaming from the trees did this new army make their move to enter the wall.

The Saxons were now surrounded.

When the great battle was over, the wounded tended to, and the dead collected, Arthur sought out Eadwyn. He and the Knights, with the exception of Lancelot and Tristan, found her with her people, who were in the midst of pilling up their dead.

"Lady," Arthur called out to her. She turned her head at the sound of his voice and when she saw the men, not one of them could say they had ever seen such a radiant smile. Bowing her head to acknowlege him, Arthur saw her say something to a man standing on her left. She handed her torch to another woman near her and walked over to the Knights, the man walking with her. The pair came to a halt just a meter away from the men and Eadwyn's companion seemed to study each and every one of them. In turn, Galahad sized up the man standing with the girl he considered a friend.

They obviously knew one another, and they looked strikingly similar. Of course, the man was taller then Eadwyn, she only came up to his shoulders. He was tall, with broad shoulders and good sized arms. He was fair skinned, like Eadwyn, and he shared her dark hair. He wore his long, like the Saxons, and he sported a thick, dark beard. His eyes, Galahad took to noticing, were the same colour as Eadwyn's. 'Could this be her brother?' He wondered.

"Lady Eadwyn. I am glad to see you are well," Arthur told her.

"And you," she reciprocated, glancing at all the Knights. "I am sorry for the loss of Tristan," she told them. Arthur pushed his lips together and gave a nod.

"We are in your debt, it seems," he told her. "Surely it was your people that gave us the numbers we needed to claim such an absolute victory." Eadwyn turned her head to the man and repeated what Arthur told her in their own language. Nodding, the man held out his hand for Arthur to take. Staring into the man's green eyes, Arthur smiled slowly and gave his hand. As the two men shook, Eadwyn gave a ghost of a smile.

"My Lord, may I present my brother, Ewin. King of the Volkaric." Arthur's head turned sharply at this. "King?" He repeated.

She nodded. "Yes. At the time our villages were attacked, the King had no children of his own. As our father was the highest ranking Nobleman, Ewin was named heir to the throne." Arthur looked as if he didn't know how to take this news. Quietly clearing his throat, he only nodded and motioned to the rest of Eadwyn's tribe.

"Your people are most welcome inside the Wall," he told her. "I will make sure food is provied for them, and I will see to it that rooms are provided for you and your brother."

Ewin gave Eadwyn a look and told her something none of the other men could understand. Giving her brother a curious glance, Eadwyn muttered something under her breath. "My brother asks me beg your pardon, but he says we will make camp with our people."

Galahad wanted to say something to try and change her mind, but was soon silenced by a look from Gawain. "Not now," he whispered. The younger Knight grumbled, but stayed silent none the less. He glanced back at Eadwyn, only to see that she was already looking at him with a small smile. "You should have someone take a look at that," she told him, pointing at the rather large gash on his right bicepe. Flexing his arm, Galahad winced in pain. "Perhaps. But there are people who require attention more than me."

Eadwyn's smile grew. "Come with me."

Furrowing his brow, he saw Arthur nod his consent, and began to follow the dark haired woman. She led him a little ways away from the battlefield, where someone had set up a small tent. Opening the flap, Eadwyn walked in, leaving Galahad outside. He heard her voice, but she was speaking a different language. Not the language of her tribe; not what he had heard her speak before. This was different. Taking a breath, Galahad pulled open the fabric and walked inside. Eadwyn motioned for him to sit down on a makeshift cot and he obliged.

"Take off your shirt please," she told him.

Nearly choking on his own air, he gave a flustered grin, which made Eadwyn roll her eyes. "Do not be so modest, Galahad. She needs full access to your wound. There can't be any loose fabric in the way." From behind a curtain came the healer.

To Galahad, it looked as if she could barely stand the sight of blood, let alone be a healer. She was a slight girl with fair skin. Her ash blonde hair was pulled into two braids that fell down to her hips, but her grey eyes were filled with a seriousness that came after tending to so many wounds.

"This is the only wound you have suffered?" The girl asked, taking a look at the gash. "You must be a skilled warrior to fend of Saxon swords."

Galahad shrugged his left shoulder. "No. I was just lucky."

He watched as the girl pulled a leather pouch out of her apron and opened it, grabbing a wickedly sharp needle made of bone. As she unravelled a length of thread, Eadwyn put a jar on the table. While the girl was attaching the thread to the needle, Eadwyn opened the jar which contained a brown paste, and scooped some out with her hand. Gingerly, she applied the paste to Galahad's arm while telling him only, "This will stop infection." Eadwyn put the lid back on the jar and she saw the Knight's worried expression as he looked at the needle. He wasn't worried about getting his wound stitched; Dagonet had mended plenty of them. He was more worried about the girl who was doing it.

"Don't worry so much," he heard Eadwyn say. "Otha is a very skilled healer. She has dealt with wounds much more serious then yours."

He looked at her, only to see her smiling face. "I'm so glad you think this is funny," he grumbled. Holding in a laugh, Eadwyn shook her head. "Not at all," she said, convincing no one. "But if you will excuse me, I must rejoin my brother." As she left the tent, she came face to face with Arthur, Guinevere and Gawain. She smiled in greeting when they heard Galahad cry out. Hearing Otha curse in her own harsh sounding language, Eadwyn smiled.

"I've only just begun," she scolded from inside the tent. "Stop squirming around."

"What's going on?" Arthur asked her.

"Your healers were all busy, so I brought Galahad to Otha. She is skilled, do not worry."

Gawain laughed. "It's not Galahad you should be worried about. It's your healer. Last time Dagonet stitched up one of his cuts, he got an elbow to the head. Galahad has a fear of needles."

"Otha?" Guinevere questioned. Her eyes narrowed as she stood next to Arthur. "What is it?" Arthur asked the Woad. "Nothing," Guinevere said after a pause. "The name sounds forgein, that's all."

Eadwyn stood to her full height, staring Guinevere in the eyes. "What of it, Guinevere? Do not forget, you have a tribe full of forgeiners with you now. Now that the Saxons are defeated, will your suspicious eye fall on us?" Just like when she left the Wall, Eadwyn and Guinevere stood staring at one another, until the tension was broken.

Arthur and Gawain stood, neither knowing what to say to either woman, when Galahad walked out of the tent with a smile. He was bending his arm and flexing with hardly any pain. "That girl of yours is a wonderful healer, Eadwyn," the Knight told her. Eadwyn took her eyes off of Guinevere and turned to Galahad, just as Otha came out rubbing her shoulder.

"He hit me," she told the older woman.

Galahad had the decency to blush. "I appologised for that."

Guinevere took in the sight of the healer and frowned. She watched as the the girl handed Galahad a small jar and then walked back inside the tent.

"What is that?" The Woad asked. Galahad tucked the jar into his pocket and told her it was to help ward off infection. "Arthur has doctors to treat you, you know."

Galahad nodded as he began to walk away with Gawain. "I know," he said over his shoulder. "But they never patch me up half as good as she did."

When the pair were gone, Arthur turned to Eadwyn. "Lady, I have come to invite you and your brother to a feast to celebrate our victory over the Saxons. It will be held in two days time in the Great Hall." Eadwyn nodded her head. "The invitation is most generous. I will tell my brother, and we shall be there. Along with his Councilmen," she added with an afterthought.

Arthur just nodded. "Yes, of course." "My Lord," she began after a moment. "I saw that Cyrnic was left alive. May I ask what you have done with him?" Arthur raised an eyebrow, but told her what the had done with the Saxon son. "We have put him in the dungeon for the time being. Why do you ask?" Eadwyn smirked. "The man held me captive. I just like to know that he is the one in a cell now." She cleared her throat. "Might I also ask about Lancelot?"

At this, Arthur smiled. "The doctors say that he will be fine. The arrow missed anything vital and it was easy to mend. With rest, he should be back on his feet soon." Relief flooded through her, although she didn't let it show. Arthur took Guinevere's arm and began to lead her away. "I should think he would like to see you," he told her before walking back to the wall.

Eadwyn in turn walked back to her own people and sought out her brother. In her short absense from his side, she found out that Ewin had sent out a messanger deep into the forest and called back the rest of the tribe. The amount of people had now nearly doubled and the women had made quick work of getting fires started and handing out food to the warriors.

That night the Volkaric slept easily on the ground, and the next morning they all made their way inside the Wall and began setting up tents. "Not many sobbing widows," Ewin said to her as they walked through the new camp. "This is good. Not many men lost." Eadwyn nodded and looked at the far away battlefield. It was littered with pile after pile of bodies, Saxon and Woad alike. "Not on our side, at least. These Woads are skilled fighters."

She threw a dark grin to her brother. "Now our family is avenged, wouldn't you say?"

Ewin looked at his little sister. The last time they had seen each other, they had been running through the forest together with a complete sense of freedom. That night, the Saxons had attacked, and he was thrust into the leadership of the remaining tribe. They had no choice but to flee. Later on he had heard reports that others saw his sister being dragged away by some Saxon, and he came to the awful conclusion that she had been killed with the rest of his family. When she had come riding up through the mist just two weeks ago, Ewin thought that he must have been dreaming. But when she jumped off her horse and came running into his arms, he knew she was no dream. They held onto each other so tightly, putting all their feelings of love and loss into one emrace. That night, while their people celebrated, he led his sister into his tent where they talked until early the next morning. He told her of their easy sail to Briton and their peaceful co-existance with the tribes of the North. They had heard rumors of Saxons, and were deciding what to do if they came, when she found them, he told Eadwyn. She, on the other hand, told him of her life, a much darker tale, and he loved her all the more for it. She always was a strong one.

"Little sister," he said, taking her arm. He lead her into his tent and presented her with a small wooden box. "This is for you." Opening the box, Eadwyn took out a thin silver coronet that she recognised as their mother's and held it in her hands. Turning her eyes to look at her brother, she gasped.

"You were able to save it?" She asked. "Thank-you. I will cherish it." Putting it and the box to the side, she smiled as Ewin cupped her cheeks with his hands. "I would advise you to wash. You smell terrible," he teased, as only a brother could. With a mock glare, she strode away from the tent in search of her newly appointed maids in waiting. When she found the younger girls, they followed her up to the fortress where they were greeted by Vanora. She saw the older woman a few times when she was here last, but Eadwyn never really spoke to her.

"You must be looking for somewhere to bathe, am I right?" Eadwyn nodded. "Yes. Might one be made ready for me?"

Vanora nodded and led them down into the servant's quarters and told a maid to get a bath ready. She turned to Eadwyn. "I'm sorry you had to come all the way down here. But after you left, Arthur put a Roman officer in the room you were staying in."

"It's no trouble," Eadwyn told her as the servants began filling a tub with hot water. Vanora smiled and left them alone once the tub was ready and she sunk into the hot water with a sigh of pleasure as her maids in waiting stood around her. After washing away a week's worth of dirt from her hair, she scrubbed at her skin until it was red. Then she stood up and wrapped herself in a blanket and turned to one of her maids, Saeswith, who held out a dark green gown.

Once she had changed into the gown, Eadwyn sent the girls back to the camp, while she walked the familiar steps to Lancelot's chambers. She walked passed the door to what was once her room for a time and soon came upon Lancelot's door. When she had left, she had steeled her heart against the man, but when she saw him fall under Cyrnic's arrow, she had felt the steel melt and her heart burned for him. After the battle had ended, she had seen Arthur kneel at his side as a doctor was called. They had brought him into his rooms, and Arthur told her that Lancelot would indeed live, which lifted a weight from her shoulders.

Eadwyn pushed back her shoulders as the door opened and she came face to face with two of Arthur's Roman doctors. "My Lords," Eadwyn said. "I wish to see Sir Lancelot. Is he well enough?" The men looked at one another and nodded. "He is sleeping, my Lady. Be quick."

Eadwyn quietly opened the door and walked inside. Sure enough, there he lay on his bed with a bandage wrapped tightly around his wound. She felt her heart beat quicken as she took in his shirtless chest. As she stood watching his sleeping form, Eadwyn began to rethink her decision to come here. She was going to wait until he was awake and perhaps talk with him, but she recalled the things that he had said to her before she left, and her shoulders slumped.

'I shouldn't be here,' she thought to herself. 'Not after he treated me like a common whore.'

Slowly and quietly, she began backing out of the room just as Lancelot started to wake up. He mumbled incoherantly, then looked at her through sleepy eyes. "Eadwyn?" But she didn't answer. Nor did she even stop. Turning around, she opened the door and walked out. Once she was down the hall, Eadwyn leanded against a wall and let out a breath. She knew she should hate him, but seeing him lay there, so close to meeting death, she realised just how much she still cared for him. Opening her eyes, Eadwyn pushed herself off the wall and made her way out of the building. Once outside, she smiled as her maids in waiting fell into step behind her.

They were very dedicated in their duty to her, and Eadwyn was happy that her brother's Councilmen had such goodly daughters to choose from. "Where is my brother?" She asked. The girls began to snicker behind their hands and looked at one copper-haired girl, Katla, for she fancied herself in love with the king.

"I think he is with his wife, my Lady," the blonde Saeswith told her. Nodding, she decided to leave Ewin with his new wife and instead she looked for Otha. Otha was with the other women preparing food for dinner that night. She smiled when she saw Eadwyn and handed her knife off to a woman to her right. "Good day," the younger woman greeted. "You look better." Eadwyn smiled. "A bath usually makes one look better. You might soon need one yourself," she told the healer. Otha laughed, and Eadwyn took her by the arm and led her away. "I must speak with you."

Walking away from the group of women, Eadwyn led them back to her tent, leaving the girls outside. "What is it?" Otha asked. Eadwyn sighed. "Cyrnic is alive," she told her. The blonde gasped and put a hand to her mouth. She tried to blink away tears, but they came anyways. "Are...are you sure?" Eadwyn nodded. "I saw that he was left alive, and I asked Arthur what was done with him. I was told that he's in the dungeons." After a moment of silence, Otha nodded. "Are you going to see him?"

Eadwyn shrugged. "I don't know. I think so." "Will you tell him I want to see him? Will you ask if he wants to see me?" The older woman nodded, and Otha hurried off to her own tent. She sat on a small stool and thought.

That night, she went to the dungeons.

She had asked Arthur's permission, and now she stood alone in the dank room. She had sent the guards away with a wave of her hand, and stood before Cyrnic. With her head cocked to the side, Eadwyn studied him. The Saxons had lost, he had been taken prisoner, and still Cyrnic retained the same arrogance he had had all those years ago.

He rose when he saw her, throwing Eadwyn a smirk. They stood not six feet apart, staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity, when finally he spoke.

"So. It is you."

She nodded curtly. "It is. It seems our paths have crossed once agin, Cyrnic." He crossed his arms and looked her up and down. "I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me when I saw you on the ice." He thought back to the thirteen year old girl she had been when he had last seen her. "You've grown up," he said with lecherous approval, and Eadwyn narrowed her eyes.

"If I had known you would grow to look like this, I would have tried harder to prevent your escape." Eadwyn shook her head. "Then you would have had an even larger number of dead men." Cyrnic graced her with half a smirk. "You know, you impressed me the night you escaped." She resister the urge to roll her eyes. "Did I? I suppose I can die happy."

The Saxon chose to ignore the sarcasm. "We would have made a good match, you and I."

This comment made her more angry than anything he could have said. Perhaps it was because even now, after all that had happened, Eadwyn couldn't help but find him attractive. She had often wondered what kind of a person she was, to find the man that helped slaughter her family attractive. But in truth, Cyrnic was type of man she always imagined herself marrying when she was young. A warrior.

She took a step towards the bars, shaking with anger. "Perhaps," she spat out. "Perhaps it you Saxons had come peacfully." She saw Cyrnic raise an eyebrow. "But 'peaceful' isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Eadwyn glared at him. "Perhaps if you hadn't slaughtered my people. Perhaps if you hadn't held me prisoner."

She broke off, looking at his smirking face. "I don't know what you have to be so smug about." Her face took on a cold smile. "Your father is dead. Your campain has failed. You have lost, Cyrnic. Now you are the prisoner, and you don't have anything to look forward to. Except death."

Her hand reached out and grabbed one of the bars. Quick as lightning, Cyrnic grabbed onto her wrist and pulled her forward so that her face was pressed tight against the cell. Getting a grip on her upper arm, he grabbed the back of her neck with his other hand. "Unhand me!" She growled.

Cyrnic just smirked again and brought his head forward and crushed Eadwyn's lips with a brutal kiss. For a moment she was frozen. All she could do was stand there and let him assult her mouth. But after the shock wore off, Eadwyn reached up with her spare hand and dug her nails into his cheek. Letting her go, Cyrnic laughed as he wiped the blood from his face. "If you help me escape, I can up call the remaining forces. We could rule this island," he promised.

Instead of sneering or spitting in his face like he expected her to, Eadwyn began to laugh. Cyrnic was surpised, but he didn't let it show. "Never! If you offered me the world, Cyrnic, I still would not rule at your side," she told him. "And to ask me to help you escape? You must be mad!"

Here came the thing Cyrnic was expecting; Eadwyn spat at his feet.

"Verfluchter hund!" Cursed dog.

Turning away, she paused. "Otha is with us. She would like to see you."

Cyrnic almost didn't say anything, but he found his tongue just as Eadwyn had reached the top of the stairs. "Tell her to come," was all he said. She kept on walking, giving no indication that she had heard him. When she left the dungeon, she walked out of the lower levels of the fortress and made her way towards the great hall. It was there that a young hall boy ran up to her.

"My Lady," he panted. "I have been sent by Sir Lancelot to come find you. He bids that you go to his chambers." Eadwyn raised an eyebrow. "Tell Sir Lancelot that I decline the invitation." She made a move to turn around, but the boy was persistant. "He says it is urgent, my Lady." Rolling her eyes, she replied, "Fine," and allowed him to lead her to Lancelot. Entering his room, she wasn't surprised to see him sitting on the edge of his bed, still without his tunic. She stood in front of the door and waited for him to say something.

"Will you pass me my tunic?"

Narrowing her eyes, Eadwyn took three long strides to where it lay and passed him the shirt. "You shouldn't be up," she told him. "You should be resting." Lancelot rolled his eyes while struggling to put on the tunic. "You can save your breath. I'm getting up. I hate laying around in bed. Unless I have someone in it with me," he chuckled, and then winced as the movement pulled on his stitches. Eadwyn, ignoring his lecherous comment, sighed and reached over and grabbed the tunic from him. "Hold out your arms if you can," she told him. With his arms in front of him, Eadwyn slipped the tunic on and over his head. "Thank-you," he said.

There was a moment of silence in the chamber as the knight gently stood up. "You were here this morning," Lancelot said at last. "Yes," she had to agree. She saw no point in lying. "Perhaps I came in to finish you off," she mumbled. Lancelot grinned. He reached out to touch her arm, but Eadwyn pulled back. Sighing, his arm fell to his side.

"I've missed you." Eadwyn shook her head. "I have only been gone a month." He shrugged a shoulder. "All the same." She looked around the room for signs that women had been here, but could find nothing. "Why did you send for me?" She asked. "To say I was sorry. To appologise for the way I acted. For what I said."

Furrowing her brow in confusion, she asked, "What?" Lancelot looked into her eyes. "I didn't mean anything that I said down in the training yard that day. What I said the night before, it wasn't from the drink. I meant it."

In an instant, her heart was in her throat. "So it was true? You really do..." She broke off, unable to say the words.

"I do. I love you." He grabbed her hands and she didn't pull away. "Eadwyn, I love you. More than any woman I've ever met." She searched his eyes for the truth, and found it; when she did, her heart began to ache.

If only a month had not passed.

Slowly pulling her hands from his, Eadwyn shook her head and gazed at Lancelot sadly. "It's too late," she told him. "I am already promised." Stepping back, she watched disbelief come over his face.

"No." Not meeting his eyes, Eadwyn nodded. "To one of my brother's councilmen."

"You can't. I won't let you." The conviction in his voice made her look up. "You expect me to defy my own brother?" She asked.

"Listen to me," Lancelot commanded. "Over the course of fifteen years, I have fought no battles that were my own. Everything I have done on this island was not for me, it was for the advantage of someone else. But hear me, I will fight for you now."

His words were so strong, so passionate, that Eadwyn was a moment away from breaking her promise to Ewin and running away with Lancelot. But she had indeed made her brother a promise. It was for the good of her people, and she couldn't back down now. Pushing her lips together, Eadwyn stepped back once again and willed herself not to cry.

"I am sorry," she whispered, berfore running out of the room. Running out of the fortress, she took no notice of the cold night air and went straight into her tent. Laying quietly down on the bed, Eadwyn allowed a few tears to spill out before falling into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning was grey. Eadwyn awoke later than usual and was momentarily shocked to see Otha sitting on a stool. "What are you doing here?" She mumbled, sitting up from her bed. Otha looked to the ground and was fidgeting with her hands. "You saw Cyrnic, yes?" Eadwyn nodded and stood up, wrapping herself in a blanket. "I did."

"Did he..." Otha paused, her fair cheeks turning red. "Did you ask him about me?" Again Eadwyn nodded. "Yes. Tell her to come, was all he said." When Otha finally looked up at her friend, there were tears in her eyes. "I don't know the way to the dungeons," she whispered.

The last thing Eadwyn wanted to do was see Cyrnic again, but her arms found their way around the healer's shoulders. "I will take you there," she said after a silent moment. Otha gave a small smile and wiped away her tears. "Thank-you." Pulling out of Eadwyn's hug, Otha rose and bowed her head.

"Be ready. Around noon." Otha nodded and left the tent while Eadwyn began to dress. The rest of the morning passed by uneventfully. Eadwyn ate breakfast with her brother and his new wife Ragna, and at noon she found Otha and led her to the dungeons.

As before the guards left when she told them to, and if they were curious as to why two women wanted to be alone with the Saxon prisoner, they didn't show it. When they came to Cyrnic's cell, they found him sitting on the ground eating a now stale loaf of bread. "Cyrnic?" Otha said. Eadwyn forced any emotion off of her face as Cyrnic's eyes rose and saw them. Turning around before he could say anything, she touched Otha's arm gently.

"I will leave you with him," she whispered. Otha nodded, but she hadn't paid any attention to what Eadwyn had said. Cyrnic stood up and came to stand at the bars. Shyly, she took a step forward. Then another, and another until she too was standing close to the cell.

"Otha."

If Eadwyn had stayed in the lower level of the dungeon, she would have seen Cyrnic's eyes soften as he reached for the blonde girl's hand. Her grey eyes filled with tears once again, but she refused to let them fall. Cyrnic pulled her arms through the bars and when her body was pressed against the cell, he folded his arms around her in a gentle, though somewhat akward embrace.

"Oh, my cousin," Otha whispered.

They began to speak in their own language, unaware of the eyes watching them.

Once again, when Eadwyn left the dungeons her maids caught up with her. She led them back to her tent where, in an effort to get both Lancelot and Cyrnic out of her head, they began choosing their gowns for that evening. Katla, the youngest of the girls, was in favour of dressing in matching gowns. She was overuled, and opted for a green gown.

Saeswith chose a blue gown that matched her light blue eyes and she grinned saucily when she looked at her reflection. The last maid was a quiet girl named Tola; a willowy thing with light brown hair and eyes the colour of dark honey. She decided to wear a gown of red to match her cousin Ragna. All of the girls put on similar jewelry; ivory hair ornaments and silver bracelets, and Eadwyn smiled as she watched them fuss over their hair.

Since the girls were placed in her household, she had come to enjoy watching them go about life in an almost carefree way. The girls couldn't have been more than seven or eight when the tribe was forced to flee, and they had the luxery of spending the last six years safe in Briton. Eadwyn often wondered if she hadn't been captured, would she have turned out the same way? Instead, occasionally, she felt cut off from the rest of the women.

Hours passed before Otha came back from the dungeon and when she entered Eadwyn's tent, she was already in a dark blue gown with her blonde hair out of the braids and tumbling down her back.

When the sky began to turn dark, Eadwyn led the four to Ewin's tent and the large group of Wolfers made their way inside. When they got there, there was already a group of Woads standing with cups of ale, waiting to enter the great hall. When the doors finally opened, the Knights were already seated as the two peoples walked through the threshold.

Ewin and his entourage entered second. The King entered the Hall with a young woman on his arm. She was a pretty woman, with hair the same colour as the golden coronet she wore on her head. Her hair was up, indicating her status as a married woman, so the Knights took her to be Ewin's wife. She looked to be the same age as Eadwyn, who was walking behind her. The dark haired woman was on the arm of a man who was easily twenty years her senior, and Lancelot nearly gasped.

He had never seen her look so regal. She wore a gown of black wool and a black cloak to match, which was held together at her neck with a broach of silver and amber. Her hair fell down her back and on her head she wore a silver coronet embedded with amber stones. She easily out-shown her brother's wife, though the blonde wore a bright gown the colour of holly berries.

Behind Eadwyn came Ewin's councilmen. They were all tall men, and they all had a warrior's aura hanging about them. Their arms were decorated with silver armbands given to them by the King, each band a reward for an act of courage or intelligence. Behind the warriors came the Queen's ladies and Eadwyn's maids in waiting, Otha among them. Arthur came and stood before Ewin with Guinevere at his side. Holding out his arm, he smiled when Ewin took it and the two men shook hands.

When they let go, Ewin put his hand on Ragna's arm and presented her to Arthur. "My wife, Ragna Thorkelsdottir." Arthur bowed his head. "A pleasure, my Lady. And this is Guinevere."

Ewin gave his own small bow and the Woad gave a signal to the servants. Ewin's men were given goblets of ale and the two groups raised them in honour of one another. Arthur motioned with his hand to the row of empty chairs on one side of the long table, his round table having been moved out to accomedate the large number of people. "Please sit."

Eadwyn sat in a chair next to Ragna and she was surprised to see how much food there was. Platter after platter of beef, pork, fish, and fowl were laid out on the table, along with vegetables, tangy orange cheese and loaves of bread beyond count.

After the required pleasantries were exchanged, people began dishing out their own food while a handful of servants were given the seemingly unending task of pouring ale and mead. Eadwyn tried to concentrate on her food, but her eyes soon began to wander towards the Knights. When she saw Lancelot, he was already watching her.

Their eyes locked for a moment, but Eadwyn quickly looked away.

"He really shouldn't," came the voice from beside her. She turned to Ragna with a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

"That Knight. The one with the curly hair." Ragna smiled and crinkled her small nose. She leaned in and dropped her voice to a whisper. "He keeps on looking at you as if he wants to eat you up right here, in front of everyone." Eadwyn looked across the table and Lancelot was indeed looking at nothing else but her. "You must take care. Ivar will not like it." Ragna looked down passed her husband and saw Ivar, Eadwyn's betrothed.

He did not look happy.

Ivar was a big man with thick blonde hair streaked with grey and an even thicker beard. His dark eyes sat in a broad face and right now they were squinted in anger. Anger aimed towards Lancelot, but the Knight gave no notice.

"I have told him about Ivar. Lancelot knows that I must give him up. It...nothing could ever come of this, anyways." Ragna raised one golden eyebrow in disbelief.

"If you say so," she said, taking a bite of cheese and bread. Later on in the evening when all the food had been cleared away, everybody moved outside of the fortress into the night. There were large bonfires that had been lit and there were many small groups of people playing music with great enthusiasm. Servants brought out chairs for anyone who wanted to sit, and Eadwyn chose to sit with her brother and some of his men.

The others, already drunk, eagerly danced with the Woad women and Ragna's ladies in waiting. Ragna herself did not dance, but rather she stood to the side a little ways away talking with Tola. Katla was with a group of Woad girls who were trying to teach her the steps to one of their dances, and she saw Saeswith, as usual, surrounded by young men, Gawain included.

With a grin, Eadwyn tsk tsk-ed as Saeswith giggled flirtatiously at Gawain. The blonde whispered something into his ear and his head fell back with laughter. Her eyes moving across the crowd, Eadwyn saw Galahad weave his way through the crowd towards Otha and as he bowed to her with a grin on his face.

He was asking her to dance. Even from far away, Eadwyn could see her eyes sparkle with laughter as she let herself be led away into the crowd of people. Eadwyn watched Otha dance happily with Galahad and she did not hear the approach of Lancelot.

"May I have this dance, Milady?" Came the soft voice from behind her. Eadwyn blinked, her heart beating rapidly. "I...I do not know the steps," she said at last. Lancelot grinned. "Then I will have to teach you." Holding out her hand to him, she allowed the Knight to lead her away from her brother's side.

"Is that him, then?" He asked when they were far enough away. "Your intended?" She turned her eyes back to the man that had been standing next to Ewin.

"Yes," Eadwyn replied. "Ivar. My brother's most trusted councilman." "Lancelot 'hmm-ed' but said no more. He led her to the group of dancers and they made their way towards the youngest Knight and his blonde partner. "Having fun?" Eadwyn asked with the ghost of a smile. Otha blushed in return.

Eadwyn expected to stay with them and dance, but Lancelot just pulled her away from the crowd back towards the building. "I thought we were dancing," she asked as he led them to a dark corner. He smirked in return. "I had to say something to get you away from them."

Pushing her against the cold stone wall, he put his forehead onto hers and relished in being so close to her. Eadwyn made a sound of disapproval and pushed him away. She tried to leave but he just put his arms around her stomach and pulled her close to him. Because he Lancelot couldn't see her face, Eadwyn allowed herself the tiniest of smiles and she held onto his hand. He held her close and inhaled the scent of her hair.

"I'm not going to give up, you know," he whispered. Eadwyn's grip on his hand tightened and she shook her head. "Lancelot, please. You must. Just as I must obey my brother." She felt a lump in her throat and she had to stop speaking. "Why?" Lancelot demanded, suddenly turning her around to face him. "Why must you obey him?"

"He is my brother," Eadwyn pointed out vehemently. "Who you havent' seen in half a decade." Eadwyn quickly pushed him away and nodded. "Exactly! Lancelot, everything I have done in the last six years was so I could survive to one day find my people. And I have. And I will stay with them, and do what is expected of me." "What's expected of you is to be married off to a brute of a man twice your age?"

Eadwyn's mouth arranged itself into a smirk. "It's not the first time a woman has been put in a situation like this. Nor will it be the last. Ivar holds the most sway within the tribe. It is only natural that he would be the one I marry. It's what is best."

"For who? Certainly not you," Lancelot said. "That doesn't matter," she said quietly. He let out a sigh and put his hands on her shoulders. They stood in silence, when Lancelot began to run his hands up and down her neck.

"It matters to me."

Closing her eyes, Eadwyn rested the back of her head on the wall behind her. "I have made an oath to Ewin. What would you have me do? Run away with you? Betray the brother I love? The only family I have left?"

"Yes," Lancelot said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. Smirking slightly, he drew close to her and touched his lips to hers. At first she didn't respond, but soon Eadwyn was clinging to the Knight and she let him deepen the kiss with his tounge. She felt his hands reach up and grab onto a fistful of her hair and almost let out a quiet moan when a voice rang out through the music.

"Eadwyn!" Breaking apart as fast as lightening, she saw Ivar standing in front of the pair, with two men standing behind him. His face was full of rage and his fists were clentched tight. For a moment no one said a word, until Ivar spoke up. "Ga aan uw zelt terug. Jeltzt." (Return to your tent. Now.)

Lancelot watched as Eadwyn narrowed her eyes and looked at Ivar with defience. He didn't understand what had been said, but he knew an order when he heard one. He wondered what she would say to him, but to his surprise, she quickly lowered her gaze and walked away towards her camp.

Lancelot threw a glance at Ivar, only to find that the big man was standing there sneering at him with hate in his eyes. One of the men behind Ivar put a heavy hand on his shoulder and was able to lead him away before any trouble started. Running a hand through his hair, Lancelot sighed and walked back to the celebration. He spent some time with Arthur and Guinevere, but he found no solace with them. All he could think about was Eadwyn, and what he could do to try and change her mind.

Bidding goodnight to the Knights he could find, Lancelot quietly made his way back to his room inside the wall. It took him a long while to fall asleep, and a restless sleep it was. He awoke when the sun came up and found that he could not go back to sleep. He lay in his bed for hours until boredom forced him to get up. Most everyone spent that day recovering from the night before and the fortress was unusually quiet. He went down to Eadwyn's tent to see her, but was told by a little redhead that she was unable to see anyone. Not about to push a girl out of the way, Lancelot cursed in his head and went to the stables. He spent the day riding and the evening drinking, and sleep came easy that night when Lancelot finally went to bed. Waking up late the next morning, he put on the clothes he wore the previous night and he made his way down to the Great Hall. Arthur caught up with him walking down the hall and grinned.

"I was surprised at you the other night, Lancelot. You left the celebration much to early. It was unlike you." Lancelot shrugged and said nothing; there was nothing to say. "What plans have you made for today?" he asked his former commander, trying to change the subject.

"I have sent messages to Merlin and Ewin this morning. We need to discuss Cyrnic's fate." Lancelot scoffed. "You have to kill him. There's no other option." And Arthur, though he was ever full of Christian mercy, agreed.

"Just do it quickly and be done with it," Lancelot said as they entered the hall. When the feast had ended two nights before, everything had been cleaned during the early morning hours when everyone but the servants were on their way to bed. Arthur and Lancelot took their seats at the round table that had been put back in and waited for the rest of the Knights. Bors wandered in a few minutes later looking more than a little worse for wear and merely grunted in greeting. Gawain came next, and Galahad not long after.

As he sat next to Gawain, the older Knight's eyes were drawn to Galahad. "What's on your neck?" He asked. Galahad just grinned sheepishly and said nothing, and the others laughed.

Soon after, Merlin entered the hall with his group of Woads, and Ewin with his councilmen. Lancelot noticed that Ivar wasn't present, much to his delight. After the Northmen, to the Knights' annoyance, came the priests. Although the majority of people at the wall were pagans, there were a large number of Christians and priests had flocked there with hopes of massive conversions. When they had all been seated, Arthur stood.

"Men, I have asked that we all gather here today to discuss the fate of the Saxon, Cyrnic." There was a murmer of different languages as Merlin and Ewin relayed Arthur's opening message.

"Drepe den sønnen av en tispe!" (Kill the son of a bitch) One of Ewin's men called out. Ewin relayed the message with a nod of his head. "No less then he deserves," the bearded king spat. There was a roar of approval by all the men and it seemed that the meeting need not have taken place, until one of the priests stood up and held up his hand.

"I beg your pardon, my Lord," the skinny priest said to Arthur. "But I must beg of you to show mercy. For the Lord Jesus said..." The priest's voice was drowned out by the angry yells of Woad and Wolfer alike. Arthur held a hand to stop their outcries, but Ewin let his men protest. He just stared at the priest, who had now moved into the middle of the table. "For the good of your souls, you must show mercy!" Ewin's mouth turned up into an amused smile and only now did he silence his men.

"Have you ever faced a Saxon, priest?" He spat the last word out as if it were a dirty thing in his mouth. The priest shook his head proudly.

"My path is through the church. Something a pagan wouldn't understand." The other priests were the only men not to bristle at this comment.

Ewin, however, just continued to smile.

"I guarantee the Saxons would show no mercy on you. They do not like priests. They would slice your stomach open with a dull sword, and laugh as the guts spilled out. Then they would feed the whole mess to their dogs." The priest in the middle was visably shaken when he heard that, and the men behind him crossed themselves. One fat priest began to mutter in Latin.

"Libera nos, Domine, furore Normanorum." Deliver us, O lord, from the fury of the Northmen. Arthur stood once again and spoke to the priest. "We all appriciate your opinions, Father, but the decision is already made. All we have to do is choose a manner of death."

At once the Volkaric suggested carving a blood eagle on his back. "It is Norse," Ewin said. "A thing he has surely ordered on another once in his life."

Nobody other then the Volkaric knew what a blood eagle was, and when it had been explained to them, the majority of men were in favour of it. "A blood eagle," Ewin explained in a matter-of-fact tone, "is a method a execution in which the spine is cut through and the ribs are broken to resemble wings, before the lungs are pulled out."

Arthur, however, was not in favour of it. "It is cruel and unusual. Surely a beheading will do."

Merlin, who had been silent with a few exceptions, made a sound that was akin to disagreement. "Nothing is to cruel a punishment for him, Artorius. If the Saxons had succeded, he would have seen every man killed. Every woman raped and every child sold as a slave." "But they did not succed," Arthur pointed out. The two men shared a look, and finally Merlin agreed. "A beheading will do." His men looked dissapointed, but they were forced to obey him.

Ewin also looked angry, as did his men. But they knew more than anyone in the room that sometimes it was better to concede. After a moment of silence, he nodded his agreement.

"So be it. We have no argument. So long as you don't place a sword in his hands before he dies, death is death."

Arthur smiled. A strange thing to do after just having decided on a matter of execution, but he did it nevertheless. Things, it seemed, were running smoothly between the two peoples. Perhaps everyone on the isle of Briton was indeed fated to live in peace, as one people.

Fate, however, had a way of laughing at them all.

It was two days later and the sun was high in the sky, when something that shouldn't have happened, happened.

Arthur was sitting in the tavern with the Knights when a guard came running towards him. Bending down on one knee, the man had to catch his breath before he could speak.

"What is it?" Arthur asked. The man was visably shaken.

"My Lord," the guard panted. "The prisoner. The Saxon, Lord, he has escaped!"

Dun dun dun!!!!


	6. Cursing the Gods

There was silence in the tavern. No one could believe what the guard had just told them.

"How could this have happened?" Arthur asked harshly when he found his tounge. Standing, he towered threateningly over the kneeling guard. The man panted.

"I...I don't know, lord. I went to the dungeons to relieve the two guards, and the men were laying on the ground. They had been put to sleep, lord. The cell door was opened, and there was a hole in the far wall. The Saxon was gone."

The Knights rose and stood behind Arthur as he struggled to get a hold on his anger.

"He had just...vanished?"

The man nodded. "Yes lord."

Arthur closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I need to speak with Merlin," he said finally. He turned and walked out of the tavern, his cloak flapping behind him as he moved.

"Lancelot," he called. Catching up, Lancelot turned his head and awaited his orders. "Go find Ewin. He willl need to know what has happened. Ask him to come to the great hall."

Lancelot simply nodded and left the building. Quickly making his way down to the Volkaric camp, he spotted one of Eadwyn's maids. "Hey, you there!" Tola turned around at the sound of his voice and stood while he ran to her. "I need to see the King. Where is he?"

She gave him a small curtsy and pointed to a large blue tent. "He is with his sister, my lord." Nodding in thanks, Lancelot ran to the tent and burst through the flap, ignoring the guard who shouted something he could not understand. Ewin and Eadwyn looked up at once. He had his hand on his sister's cheek but he pulled it away when he saw Lancelot.

"What is it?" He asked the Knight, sounding annoyed at the inturruption. Lancelot wasted no time and got straight to the point. "Cynric is gone." At once, the same emotions that were in Arthur's eyes entered Ewin's: shock and anger.

"How?" Ewin stood up and walked with Lancelot out of the tent, Eadwyn following behind them. "We don't know. A guard told us just that he had escaped somehow."

"And what has Arthur done in response?" Eadwyn asked from behind them. "He sent for Merlin," Lancelot answered without turning around. "No doubt he has his Woads seraching the woods as we speak."

They continued through the camp when they passed two of Ewin's councilmen tending a fire. "Haakon," Ewin snapped. "Erik. With me." The two men quickly dropped their wooden staffs and joined up with their King. They found two other councilmen, Svein and Ottar, and Lancelot explained what had apparently happened. The Knight was suprised at how fast the Wolfers demanded the blood of the 'careless guards', as they called the men. Ewin silenced them with a word, and nothing was said until the group reached the hall, where Arthur was seated with Merlin and his woads.

"What has happened?" Ewin demanded.

Arthur could only shake his head. "We cannot be sure." He motioned to a guard standing near the door. "We were waiting for you so he could tell us what he found."

The man bowed to Arthur as Ewin and his men sat down. "I went down to the dungeons for the shift change and found the two others laying on the ground. The cell door was open and there was a small hole in the wall at the far side."

"Big enough for a man?" Arthur asked.

The guard nodded. "Yes lord."

"Are you saying," Ewin asked slowly, "that Cynric was able to just...walk out of the fortress? Through a whole in the wall?!" Ewin was visably angry, and for good reason. He rose from his chair and glared at Arthur. "How surprising, my lord. I was under the impression that all Romans built perfect dungeons."

Eadwyn gasped and turned sharply to her brother. The biting comment brought the memory of Marius' dungeon to all the Knights.

Arthur was too stunned by the comment to say anything, and there was silence in the hall.

"Arthur didn't open the cell door," said Gawain to Ewin, his voice quiet. The younger king pushed his lips together as he struggled to get ahold of his anger, and he nodded apologetically. "Forgive me, I let my anger speak."

Arthur nodded and the comment was forgotten. "Please," he motioned to the guard. "Continue." The guard looked more nervous then anyone, and he cleared his throat. "The other guards and me figure he must have had help. There was a girl, lord. She went to see him." Arthur looked away from Ewin and turned his eyes to Eadwyn, knowing that she had been to the dungeons.

"Yes, I am aware that the Lady Eadwyn has been down to see the Saxon."

But the guard shook his head. "No lord, not her. I knew about her. She brought another girl down with her, though, and I wasn't told she would be coming. A little blonde girl." Ewin motioned to his sister and she leaned over to hear him. "Go and find Otha. Bring her here." Eadwyn nodded and quietly exited the hall. As fast as she could, she ran back to her camp and found Otha with her maids.

"Otha," she panted. "Come quickly." Half dragging her by the arm, she led the healer with her back to the meeting. When they re-entered the hall, they saw that a young girl was standing next to the guard.

"That's her," the girl pointed to Otha. "What?" Galahad stood with a confused look on his face. "Impossible," Ewin snapped. "It is not true." "What isn't true?" Eadwyn walked back to her brother's side and touched his arm.

"These fools," he said to her in their own language, "are saying that Otha helped Cynric escape." Eadwyn could not help it, she let out a harsh laugh and turned to the girl. "Why do you say she helped him escape?" The girl looked nervous about being singled out by Eadwyn, but she stood with her back straight.

"I saw her, my lady."

"Liar!" Otha yelled from across the room.

The girl swallowed hard. "The night you brought her down, my lady, I was there. When you left, they embraced. She called him cousin. Then they began to speak in a foreign language. They must have been making a plan for his escape."

There was a collective gasp from Arthur and the Knights, as well as from Merlin and the Woads.

"Cousin?" Lancelot echoed.

With the exception of the Wolfers, most of the men now eyed Otha with suspision and Ewin came to stand behind her with a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We are aware of Otha's bloodline. But I give my word, on my people, that Otha did not have a hand in it."

This seemed to satisfy Arthur, and he motioned for all the standing men to sit back down. When the hall quieted down, he looked at the blonde girl before him. "You are a Saxon?" He asked. "Cynric's own blood?"

She looked up at Arthur defiently. "I cannot help that, can I?"

"But how did you come to be with the Volkaric?" He asked. Otha looked at Eadwyn, who gave a small smile. "I ran away," she told the hall of men.

"Why?" Galahad asked with a quiet voice. The youngest Knight wanted so badly for her to be speaking the truth.

"I...I just wanted to be a healer. All my life. But an illness struck my village when I was eleven, and my parents died. I was sent to live with my mother's brother, Cerdic. He wasn't happy. A nephew would have been a thing to welcome, but a niece was just a burden. He planned to marry me off to the first man that would have me, but he had more important things to worry about at the time. So when Cynric told me of the plans to invade the North, I thought of a plan of my own. I joined the women going on the campain, and the morning of the attack, I slipped away into the woods."

Lancelot raised an eyebrow. "You just 'slipped away'?"

Otha shrugged. "No one ever took much notice of me anyways, except for Cynric. It was easy for me to lose myself with all the commotion."  
"And you all knew this?" Arthur turned his eyes to Ewin and Eadwyn. "She hid in our ships," Ewin said with a hint of amusment. "We didn't know she was there until we were at sea. She did enough begging to be left alive for the moment. But she turned out to be true to her words; she just wanted to be a healer. I had people watch her for a time until I felt it was safe to call them off. Otha has never proved herself untrustworthy, and has become a valued member of our tribe." His eyes narrowed slightly, as if daring anyone to question his judgment.

After a moment, Arthur seemed to have dropped the issue and turned back to the matter at hand. "A Woad scout has returned and they have found nothing yet. But we will not rest until the Saxon has been found. Perhaps you would lend some men for the cause?" He asked Ewin. The bearded man nodded sharply. "I would expect to do nothing else." "Good," Arthur nodded. "You and Merlin will both send out men, and they will not return until Cynric is with them."

The Woads agreed quickly, but Ewin's men looked to him for approval. He nodded his consent to Arthur's wishes and Ewin sent Haakon and Svein, two of the best trackers in the tribe, to gather a group of men.

The meeting was now over, and Otha didn't want to stay any longer than she had to. She made her way through the crowd of men and out the door, not hearing the footsteps behind her. Galahad had seen her leave, and chased after her as she ran out of the hall. "Otha! Otha, wait!" The blonde stopped at the sound of her name and turned around. He took her hand and led her into a small alcove but she wouldn't meet his eyes until his hands were on her shoulders, shaking her slightly.  
"Why did you run out like that?" Galahad wanted to know. "Because," she answered. "I couldn't bear having the men look at me the way they were. I know what some of them are thinking. They probably think that I did let Cynric out."

The Knight couldn't dent it; that thought was most likely in some of their heads. "Well, I don't," he told her. Otha smiled and his hands fell from her shoulders and instead gripped her fingers. "It's a bit of a shock, that's all, a girl like you related to such a man." His tone implied what he thought of the Saxon and Otha's smile turned into a frown.

"My cousin was a good man, you know," she told him quietly. "He was always so kind to me. His only fault was doing whatever he could to try and please his father." Galahad nearly rolled his eyes.

"They same type of 'good man' that would hold Eadwyn in a cage like an animal and beat her?" Otha's shoulders slumped and she shrugged. "I said he 'was' a good man. When I saw him in the dungeons, I could still see my cousin, but..." Otha shook her head. "Cynric has succeded in becoming his father. Just as he wanted."

Suddenly her eyes left his face and fell to the ground. "Galahad," she hesitated. "Does this change anything? Between you and I?" Otha was afraid he would tell her yes, but to her suprise she felt his lips on her cheek. She looked up and saw him grin wickedly before walking away. Otha allowed herself a small smile before she made her way back to the camp.

Back in the hall, Lancelot made his way over to Eadwyn. She saw him coming and she turned the other way and walked out the door, knowing he would follow.

He did.

He jogged to catch up to her and grabbed her hand, turning her around. When he did that, a chunck of hair was brushed aside, and Lancelot got a look at her face.

A large bruise covered her cheekbone; the smooth fair skin now tained with purple and a sickly yellow. How had he not noticed it before? "What has happened?" He asked, shocked. "Not here," Eadwyn told him, looking around at all the men milling about. He nodded and led her back to his chambers. Locking the door behind him, Lancelot sat down in a chair.

"Now," he said, his voice full of concern and curiousity.

"Ivar," Eadwyn said. Lancelot pushed his lips into a thin line and shook with rage. "He hit you?" She could only nod. "I will kill him," the Knight promised with clenched teeth. Pushing himself up from his chair, he made a move to walk out of his room, but Eadwyn grabbed his arm and held him back.

"Lancelot, no," she said. He turned back to her and saw that she was smiling. "Don't you understand? Ivar hit me. He struck the King's sister!" Lancelot shook his head, confused.

"Then why are you grinning like a bloody mad woman?" "Because he is banished!" She exclaimed vigorously. "Ewin walked in just after it happened. I was sprawled out on the ground with him looming over me and in came my brother and Ragna. She told me she's never seen him so mad. He took Ivar by the collar and threw him outside my tent, and Ragna came to my side. We watched him draw his sword and I though he was going to run Ivar through. But he told him that he was no longer part of the tribe. That's all Ewin had to say, and it was done. He had to leave." Eadwyn smirked. "He could have stayed, but he would have been an outsider. He wouldn't even hold enough rank to empty my brother's shit pail."

She took a pause and led Lancelot back to his chair.

"And so Ragna, clever woman that she is, later went to Ewin with a suggestion. She asked him now that Ivar was no longer a suitable match, would it not be wise to forge a new alliance with Arthur? He is to marry Guinevere, that much is certain, but perhaps one of his Knights?"  
She watched a slow smile creep up on Lancelot's face as he grasped the meaning of Ragna's suggestion.

"What's to say I still want you?" With a mock glare, Eadwyn sat on her heels and put her hands on his knees.

"Oh, you'll still have me," she said with certainty. "But I suppose if you refuse, there's always Galahad. Or perhaps Gawain." Throwing his dark head back with laughter, Lancelot grabbed her hands and pulled her up with him so that they were standing in front of one another. "Never. I would never give you up."

"You did once," Eadwyn pointed out as he led her to his bed.

"I was a fool."

"And now?" She asked.

He smirked down at her. "And now, I want you." Without warning, he pushed her down onto the bed and crawled on top of her before there could be any protests. He kissed her with such passion and intensity that Eadwyn had to push him off of her with a laugh.

"Remember Lancelot, I do need to breathe." He laughed and kissed her again, his nimble hands quickly getting rid of his tunic. As Lancelot moved his mouth down to her neck, she grinned as his hands untied her dress. As soon as the fabric fell away from her chest, Eadwyn lifted her hips and slipped the rest of it off, and threw it to the floor.

Pushing the Knight off her again, she laughted at his protest as she pushed him onto his back. Grinning like a fiend, she brought her mouth down to one of Lancelot's nipples and bit down. He cried out, his voice a mix of surprise and pleasure. Placing her hands over his chest, she swung her leg over his body and straddled him, kissing his ear and sending shivers down his spine.

"Good god, woman! Where did you learn that?" Eadwyn blushed. "I don't know. I just wanted to do it."

Lancelot grinned. "Well, keep it up." When Eadwyn moved to his other ear, Lancelot decided he could take it no more and pulled off his breeches. "Are you sure you want to be..." He broke off, not really wanting her to change her mind. But Eadwyn just smirked and lifted herself up slightly and Lancelot positioned himself at her enterence. As she came down on him, she hissed quietly at the new sensation. He filled her completely and she found that she liked it much more.

Lancelot thrust up with his hips and Eadwyn gasped. He knew she had never been in this position before, and he went slowly at first, until she became more comfortable. Pressing her fingers into his chest, Eadwyn began to move faster and harder, bending down to kiss Lancelot roughly on the lips. His hands dug into her hips, but she took no notice. Surely there would be bruises there in the morning.

Lancelot bit his lip to keep from moaning, but Eadwyn had no such control and her moaning voice filled the room, turning him on even more. Thrusting harder and harder still, he took her breasts in both hands and he heard her moan his name. Pulling her forward, he pressed his lips to hers as he came, her skin feeling damp under his touch. Both of them panting, Lancelot stayed inside her until he was soft and then Eadwyn rolled off of him onto the bed.

Smiling, he turned on his side and began to run his hands through her dark hair. Running his thumb over her bruise, he drew her to him when he saw her eyes begin to close.

She was tired; he was as well. He pulled the blanket up over them and allowed his eyes to close. Soon they both fell into an easy sleep. Eadwyn woke up first, but she chose to lay with her eyes closed. She felt Lancelot stir just minutes later and he smiled when he turned to her. He picked up her hand and gave her a kiss on the knuckles.

They both said nothing for a time, perferring instead to lay with Lancelot's arm draped over her.

"What will you do now?" She asked as she lay facing him. "Hmm?" The Knight replied, drowsy. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. "Perhaps I'll stay here and take a small patch of land. Become a farmer." He smirked and Eadwyn giggled. "Lancelot the Farmer?" She questioned with her eyebrows raised.

"You don't think I would do it?"

"I don't think you could do it."

"Thank-you."

"Do you even know how to plant a crop? Harverst a field?"

There was silence.

"I'll bring in people to grow the crops," he decided. "Just think: a grand hall to match our thriving farm. A son with your eyes to help me herd the livestock. A little daughter with my curly hair, sitting near the hearth helping you weave."

"Me? Spin and weave wool?" She scoffed.

"Don't interrupt," he chided her. "But I thought you told Guinevere you didn't want children."

He shook his head. "I never said I didn't want them. I just asked what right do I have to them."

"But you do," Eadwyn said softly. "You have lived bravely here for fifteen years, and your sons will carry on your legacy one day."

Lancelot gave her a half smile.

"I am surprised, though. I would think a man like you must have whelped a hundred bastards by now." He laughed out loud. "Not that I know of. I've just been lucky, I suppose." Eadywn snorted.

They lay together for the better part of an hour before Eadwyn threw his arm off and got out of the bed. "Must you go so soon?" He asked. "I think we have more...celebrating to do."

She smirked as she put on her gown. "I have to. I have to go meet Ewin. Plus, I want a wash. You might think about having one yourself."

"Why?"

"Because," she answered. "The three of us will have to meet with Arthur at some point for negotiations." Lancelot sat up, slightly confused. "Why would we need to negotiate anything?" Eadwyn threw him a look that seemed to ask, 'just how thick are you?' "Because Lancelot, on the surface, this is just an alliance. Both sides will want to get something from this marriage."

"Well, can't we just have one together?" He teased. Eadwyn chuckled. " I don't think we would get much washing done." Lancelot shrugged. "So." She just shook her head. "No, I have to go. I will see you later today."

She sauntered out of the room and left Lancelot alone in his bed.

"Women!" He muttered before falling back onto his pillow.

He had been getting dressed some hours later when one of Arthur's new pages came to his door. "My Lord," the boy stammered. "You are to come to the Great Hall." Lancelot had frowned; he didn't like the idea of being 'fetched' by some boy. But he did as Arthur asked and made his way to the Hall.

Now he sat at the round table with Arthur, Guinevere and Merlin to his right, and Eadwyn with her brother and his wife, and two of his men that had just returned from the search. It seemed Eadwyn had been correct, for it was indeed a negotiation. Although Arthur knew it was more than an allience, he needed to make sure that it was a marriage that would benefit his newborn kingdom.

But he did not know where to begin. He had dealt with many things over the long years in Britain, but negotiating a marriage had never been one of his tasks. The meeting began with neither side saying a word until Ewin spoke up.

"Arthur Castus, I give my sister to your Knight with two conditions." Arthur sat forward in his chair. "You must pledge to send men to aid us, should we need it in the future."

"And you will pledge the same, of course?" Guinevere questioned sharply. Merlin glared at her but Ewin did not seem to mind. "Of course," he agreed, as if anything else would have been unatural.

"And the second condition?" Lancelot asked. Ewin turned his eye onto the Knight. "That Eadwyn is happy." The two men stared at each other until Lancelot nodded. He glanced at Eadwyn who grinned at him. "That I can agree to."

Ragna turned to Eadwyn and the two women shared a smile. Eadwyn waved away the idea of Lancelot paying the bride price. Since the money would go to her anyways, she told him not to bother with ceremony. Arthur, concluding that the hard part of the meeting was now over, let out a quiet breath. "Then I suppose the only question left is when to arrange the festivites."

"It must be held on Fredag," Ragna announced, speaking for the first time.

"My appologies," Arthur stated. "But I am unfamiliar with the term."

Ragna smiled. "Fredag is the day named in honour of Freyja. She is the goddess of love. We also honour Frigg on this day, and it would be wise to hold the wedding on their day, for Frigg is the goddess of marriages."

Arthur smiled at the young Queen and then glanced at Ewin and Lancelot. "Perhaps we should leave the planning to the women?" Ragna laughed and told the men that it would be for the best.

"And we must prepare you," she said to Eadwyn. "For what? Lancelot asked. Eadwyn looked at him slyly. "My maids and I are bound for the hills, to spend two days weaving women's magic." Lancelot didn't like the idea of Eadwyn and her maids spending days and nights alone in the hills, not with Cynric still loose somewhere.

She saw the look on his face and felt the urge to smile at his protectiveness. "Do not worry Lancelot," she told him. "We will bring men to guard us. They will remain a safe distance from us, but will be there should we need them." He grumbled, but could say nothing to dissuade her. The ritual that was going to be performed was the tradition for soon to be brides.

The only thing Lancelot could do was warn her to be on her guard. He had a bad feeling, one that he could not shake away. That night they stayed in Lancelot's chambers and all the while he tried to talk her into staying at the fort. The next morning he walked her down to her camp to wish her farewell. Her maids were already there, along with two big men that Lancelot assumed were there to protect the women. Ewin and Ragna also came by to see them off and the two men shared a greeting.

Otha brought her a horse and held the beast while Eadwyn climbed up. Leaning over, she gave Lancelot a chaste kiss on the lips. "I've told you, you needn't worry. We shall be back in two days." The Knight could do nothing but scowl as she grinned down at him.

"We won't be unarmed, you know," Otha told him from on top of her own horse. "The King has given us our own blades. Just in case." Eadywn nodded and reached into her pouch to show him the small sax.

"My Lady," Saeswith's voice cut into the early morning. "Shouldn't we be leaving?" Eadwyn nodded and put the short sword away. She gave her Knight one last smile and turned her horse toward the gate with the small entourage behind her. She looked back once before kicking her horse into a canter and riding away from the fort.

"I am worried as well," Ewin told him. "But the Gods shall see fit to protect them."

But the Gods, though often kind, were just as often cruel.

It was the second day, and they were still in the hills when the Saxon's struck.

The eight big men had fellen on them without a moment's notice. Arrows flew out of the trees and killed the two men guarding them. Another came flying out and embedded itself in Tola's abdomen with a dull thud. Katla screamed and fell to the ground with her friend, and Eadwyn drew her sax, her short sword, from the scabbard. Saeswith did the same while Otha ran to Tola and examined the wound.

"Show yourself!" Eadwyn yelled, her hand gripped tightly around the hilt. There was movement from the trees, and Cynric emerged with Ivar at his side. Eadwyn saw him and rage quickly filled her from head to toe.

Now it all made sense. It was Ivar that aided Cynric in escaping the dungeons as a revenge on her brother for casting him out of the tribe.

Neither of the men had bows, so she knew there was more men hidden in the bush. "Saeswith," she whispered, before the other men could enter the clearing. "Run. Run back to the fortress as quick as you can. Scream like mad as soon as you reach the gates." She blocked the girl's body as best she could, and Saeswith took off running.

There was a yell from the trees as the other six men came running out with their bows up, but Cynric held up his hand.

"You go, Leofric. It's not her I want, but we can't have her running to the Knights." Eadwyn panted, feeling the helplessness of the situation. Katla sat with Tola, who lay on the ground gasping for air. Otha stared up in horror at her cousin as the group of Saxons surrounded them. Under the threat of five arrows, Eadwyn was forced to drop her sword and as soon as she did, she was being held by two Saxons who kept a strong grip on both of her arms.

Looking at Ivar, she spat at his feet and tried to fly at him, but was held back by her captors. He just smirked at her in response. "Traitor," she spat. Behind her, Eadwyn heard Katla scream as she too was taken ahold of by a big man with a bushy beard. One of the men moved to grab Otha, but Cynric turned on him.

"You are not to harm her! Just tie her up." Otha glared at her cousin as she allowed the man to move her out of their sight and tie her up without struggling. Cynric walked over to her and stroked her blonde head. "Just cover your eyes, cousin," he told her gently, as if she were a child. "I wish you didn't have to hear this."

So on impulse, he bent down and ripped a strip of fabric from her dress and tied it tightly around her head, muffling the sound and covering her eyes. Walking back to the clearing, he stood beside Ivar.

"I shall have her first, yes?" Ivar asked. But Cynirc said nothing, he just glanced at one of his freehanded men. They shared a look and the man suddenly grabbed Ivar from behind. Ivar was a strong man, but the Saxon was stronger and struggling proved useless.

"He has served his purpose," Cynric said casually. "Kill him."

The last man came at the Wolfer with his sword drawn and Ivar swore. "You whore born Saxon bastard! May the gods curse you!" Ivar was thrown forward and impaled on the sword. He fell down to the ground with a wet gurgle and died. Eadwyn looked down at his dead body and felt nothing but pleasure.

"I suppose you owe me thanks," he said to Eadwyn, but she paid him no attention. Her eyes were drawn to the ground, where Tola's chest had ceased to rise and fall. Feeling her chin quiver, she turned her eyes on Cynric and glared. "You were a fool to stay here," she hissed. "If you wanted to save your miserable life, you should have got a boat and sailed away. My brother and Arthur are surely on their way here with their men. When Ewin sees his wife's cousin's corpse, he will make you suffer."

Cynric just shrugged carelessly. "Leofric has no doubt caught up with the girl before she could reach them. He is probably enjoying her right about now."

He moved forward and caressed Eadwyn's cheek. "As I will you."

She tried to break away from the men holding her arms but it did no good, so she spat in Cynric's face. The Saxon calmly wiped off his face and then gave Eadwyn a backhanded slap across the face. Instantly she tasted blood, and it fell from her split lip onto her gown. "Lord," came the voice of one of his men. "Can we have the young one yet?" Cynric nodded his permission and Eadwyn watched with horror as Katla was thrown to the ground and her arms were held together.

"NO!" Eadwyn cried out as Katla's dress was pushed up past her hips, and she tried once more to break away. The men just laughed as the redhead screeched and the first man thrust into her with such savagery that both she and Eadwyn screamed. The man grunted with each hard thrust and finally he went ridged, then shuddered and fell forward. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he pulled out and pulled his breeches up while the second man positioned himself above Katla.

With tears threatening to fall down her face, Eadwyn kicked out with her legs and was able to wrench one arm away from the man holding her, and then the other, and she tried to run to Katla but Cynric got ahold of her hair. Pulling her back, he threw her to the ground and straddled her with his big hands around her throat.

"You won't be my queen, eh?" He voice was harsh. "Perhaps you'll be my whore instead." Eadwyn struggled as she tried to take in air, and finally one of Cynric's hands fell away from her throat. At first relief flooded through her, but the hand moved down and pulled her dress up, and she began trying to fight him off again. And oh, how she tried to get him off of her, but in the end brute force overpowered her. He pulled a dagger from his belt and held it up to her throat and he sneered.

"I'm going to put you in chains," he whispered. With his free hand he untied his breeches and bared his teeth as he made himself ready. She was digging her fingernails into his wrist, but Cynric didn't seem to notice. "You will never escape me again. You are mine now."

As the words left his mouth, he pushed all of himself inside her and began to pump. Eadwyn didn't scream or cry out, she just closed her eyes tight and prayed to the gods that he finished quickly. But Cynric didn't like that. With his now free hand, he reached up and grabbed her chin. "Open your eyes, whore." When she did not, the dagger was pressed more forcfully against her throat, and she eventually did as she was told.

But Eadwyn didn't look at him; instead her eyes turned to Katla. Poor little Katla, who was now being assulted by a third Saxon. The girl had stopped struggling, choosing instead to remain still and let them get it over with. Eadwyn tried to remain calm as Cynric forced himself on her, but soon she felt a tear escape her eye and slide down the side of her face. Then another and another. Soon Eadwyn was sobbing as she lay under him; not just for herself, but for Katla as well.

Watching her, Eadwyn was thankful that Katla was allowed the small thing of closing her eyes. From above her, Cynric was making grunting noises, and she knew he was nearly finished. He let out a cry that sounded more like a roar, and fell on her, panting. He closed his eyes, lost in his own sick pleasure, and the dagger fell away slightly.

Taking advantage of a chance that might not show up again, Eadwyn pushed away the knife and struck out with her palm, stricking Cynric across the nose. Blood spewed out onto his face and onto her chest and she was able to get her legs out from under him. Eadwyn turned on her stomach and crawled over to Ivar's corpse and pulled his sword out from the scabbard. Two of the Saxons that had stayed near the forest's edge during the whole ordeal now came running over with their swords drawn. As the first man came for her, she went low to the ground and slashed the sword across his stomach. As the man fell to the ground, Cynric wiped the blood off of his face with his sleeve and ordered the other four men to attack. They quickly surrounded her and as Eadwyn tried to make herself ready for the attack that would certainly lead to her death, the gods decided to spare her life.

Through the trees came a stream of arrows that landed in two of the Saxons' backs and they fell with a scream. Out of the woods came about twenty men on horseback, most in armour and all with weapons. Eadwyn nearly sobbed with relief and she ran out of the way to where Katla still lay on the ground. The redhead had curled up on her side and she was hugging her arms close to her. Eadwyn threw herself over the girl's body and held her tight as the horsemen cut down the two remaining Saxons. Cynric knew his death had ridden in with the horsemen, so like every Saxon warrior before him, he went out fighting.

Picking up a stray spear, he aimed it at chest level and was about to run at them, but this was seen by all the men and when an archer let his arrow fly, it landed in Cynric's shoulder. The Saxon merely sneered and drew his sword. Running at the horses, the archers let more arrows go and Cynric was hit with another seven. Breathing heavily, he slowly fell to one knee and the men got off their horses, swords drawn. Eadwyn looked and saw her brother and his men, and Arthur and his Knights. The men surrounded Cynric with their blades drawn and Ewin ran over to his sister.

"Søster!" He cried. Sister. He scooped her up off of Katla and cradled her head in his arms as she began to cry once again. Arthur watched the scene and saw Katla laying on the ground. When he saw the little Norse girl with blood on her thighs, he was filled with an anger so deep he could barely contain it. He turned back to his men with clentched teeth.

"I want his head."

Lancelot stepped forward with his two swords and gladly accepted the task. He stood behind Cynric, who was still kneeling, apparently now oblivious to the men around him. His eyes were blank, as if his soul could already see the way to Valhalla. Lancelot put one of his swords back in its scabbard and swung his remaining blade with two hands. The weapon, though deadly sharp, failed to cut off his head; instead it was only half severed from his neck.

Lancelot nearly laughed out loud. He had done it on purpose; he wanted to make the bastard suffer. Cynric fell forward onto the ground as the blood poured out of him and flowed onto the grass. He should have died from blood loss alone, but he proved very stubborn and clung to life.

One of Ewin's men made sure to kick the sword away from Cynric's reach and Lancelot continued to chop and hack until Cynric's head fell away from his body. Then men all cheered at the death of the enemy and Lancelot ran to Eadwyn. There was a loud scream from the woods and Eadwyn whispered, "Otha."

Galahad quickly made his way into the trees and he found a sobbing, bound Otha trying to free herself. Her wrists were bloody from the ropes and Galahad ripped the makeshift blindfold off of her head. After being untied, she ignored him and instead ran to Katla and Eadwyn.

"I'm so sorry!" She cried out as she fell to her knees. "I'm sorry." Otha began to apologise, but Eadwyn did not hear the words. She glared slightly and studied Otha's face, never before seeing such similarities between the healer and her cousin. She knew Otha had nothing to do with what had happened, but Eadwyn could not help but feel a chill pass over her.

"See to Katla," was the cold response. After a moment, Otha nodded and turned her attentions to Katla, who was now sitting up in the arms of Erik, not saying a word. Indeed, her eyes were not focused on anything, she was just staring into space. Holding the girl's hand, Otha stood as Erik did and he carried her back to his horse.

"Saeswith made it back to you unharmed?" Eadwyn asked her brother. He nodded. "Ran into the camp screaming like a Valkyrie, she did. We made it here as fast as we could." She nodded and stood as Ewin pulled her up. Looking around her brother, she saw Tola still laying on the ground. "Tola!" She tried to run to the body, but Ewin held her back.

"Our men will retrieve her body." Suddenly Eadwyn's body felt heavy and numb. She saw Katla being placed in front of Erik on his horse, her eyes glassy as she sat sidesaddle. She saw Otha standing at Galahad's side with so much guilt on her face that Eadwyn felt the chill melt away, and she wanted to weep for the blonde. Finally, her eyes fell on Tola's body as it was gently lifted off of the ground by Ottar. Both the girls were young and innocent. Why had the gods sought to destroy them both?

She thought of Ragna, her brother's wife. She and Tola had been close; closer then cousins, they were more like sisters.

Eadwyn fell to her knees.

The Queen would be devestated. Ewin reached out a hand to her but he recoiled when a scream erupted from her throat. It was a wild sound, raw and full of emotion. It was a wail that was surely on it's way to Asgard, the home of the gods, and she cursed them until she ran out of breath.

No one moved for a moment until Lancelot came and kneeled before her. Her head hung limp and he lifted it with his hands. She flinched when he touched her and he cocked his head. Her eyes were full of tears and he understood now that Katla was not the only one with blood on her legs. Eadwyn saw the knowing look on his face, and she let out a sob. She had tried to stay strong for Katla, but she was with her people now and for the moment, the time for being strong was over. She wimpered and he wiped away a stray tear.

"Lancelot," she whispered. "Lancelot."

He caught her when she fell forward, as unconciousness settled over her like a blanket.


End file.
